Her Fatal Mistake
by Rae Carson
Summary: Part IV. AU. Post-Hogwarts. Cross-Gen fic. Harry's mother-in-law, who bears a faded Dark Mark, is murdered. With little to go on and a family in mourning, will he be able to solve the mystery or rewrite history before it's too late? An Auror!Harry story.
1. Dark Past

**_Dear Readers, _  
**

**_Once again, thank you for following us over from our first three stories! And to our new hands, welcome to the Pegasus Patronus Series! This fic series is an AU with many OCs, so DJ Vivian and I (my fic collaborator) do apologize if you get confused. We recommend starting at the very beginning of the series. _**

**_We are deep under the influence of our Muse, and after having written 24000 words in 12 days, we decided we had to continue our stories with The Fatal Mistake. Please help this story get more recognition and hits by reviewing. Thank you. And as always, enjoy!_**

**_Much Love,_**

**_Rae Carson and DJ Vivian_**

**_P.S. The Pegasus Patronus Series is as follows:_**

**_The Prophecy Renewed  
_****_A Forsaken Arising  
Potter's Stolen Scion  
The Fatal Mistake_**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE:**

**DARK PAST**

It had been a hard night at work. Remus wearily trudged his way home from the Ministry that morning. It was difficult work, trying to get the other werewolves to cooperate with him. And this past night shift had been particularly taxing, as those involved in the current situation seemed determined to run him out yet again. They suspected his loyalties. _And with good reason, _thought Remus. He was now married to a prominent healer woman and secretly working for Harry and his team of Aurors on the graveyard shift.

Remus walked into the kitchen, looking forward to seeing his wife, Adonna. She always had a happy smile for him to come home to. She worked just as hard as he did—if not harder—but she was a bit traditionalist in the way she insisted on making breakfast for him. It was their customary routine to eat breakfast together before he went upstairs to sleep and she went off to St. Mungo's to work.

"Hello!" Remus called out. He hadn't seen Adonna in the kitchen. When nobody answered, he walked into the lounge. His eyes widened as he saw Adonna in a heap on the floor. She was face-down. He ran immediately to her.

"Adonna?" he questioned, full of worry. He gently picked her up off the floor and turned her around to face him.

"Adonna, sweetheart?" He put a hand on her face, attempting to wake her. She didn't respond the second time either. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Please tell me, Adonna!" Remus shook her lightly. She wasn't breathing and he couldn't hear her heartbeat.

Panic was starting to set in, as Adonna was exhibiting all the classic signs of a magical execution—namely, nothing was outwardly wrong with her, but she still appeared to be dead anyway. _This isn't fair, how could I lose two wives in less than twelve years..._

Remus forced himself to be rational despite the ominous sinking feeling in his chest. He sent off a Patronus to Harry, who was just coming on-shift at the Ministry.

His son-in-law was there in less than two minutes. "I saw your Patronus, Remus. What's wrong?"

"It's Adonna..."

Harry proceeded to summon some Remediables, or quick-response healers, from St. Mungo's. It quickly became apparent that it was just as Remus had originally feared. Adonna was simply dead, doubtless killed by the most horrible of all Unforgivable Curses, the Avada Kedavra.

* * *

Harry was heartbroken; he never thought he'd have to go out on a call where his own mother-in-law would have been murdered. But that's just what had happened. Remus sat there on a couch in the lounge with a blank expression, barely managing to answer anybody who questioned him. Harry had seen that look a thousand times; it was the dull-eyed stare of somebody whose loved one had just been killed. What made things worse is that Adonna had been a few weeks pregnant and not yet informed Remus. Harry didn't quite know how to break the news to the man. Remus was barely holding it together as it was. And right now, Harry felt so horrible for his father-in-law, he'd do just about anything to make things right again.

But first, he had to break the horrifying news to his wife...

* * *

Shantiel had helped to start a primary school for magical children. She tried to arrive early every morning to set up the classroom. Minverva McGonagall, along with Albus Dumbledore felt that the younger members of Wizarding families deserved the same education as the older students that attended Hogwarts. It especially made it easier for those who had children who were Metamorphmagi. They had chosen a building much like St. Mungo's in London. It had only been a couple of years, but it seemed to be going quite well. Shantiel was asked to be a teacher a year after her son, Maxwell, was born. At first she wasn't quite sure but Adonna and Harry both encouraged her to do so. She would have more time with the kids and have the same days off. She accepted the job helping the little ones. She truly enjoyed it.

Harry stood outside of the classroom door. He sighed and ran a hand over his eyes as he watched his wife hanging the pictures from her little students. Harry raised his hand and knocked on the window. Shantiel smiled in puzzlement when she saw him there. The knot in his stomach became tighter. He wished desperately that he didn't have to do this to her. This was the one thing that he dreaded the most about his job. Shan opened the door. Her smile faded as she saw his expression. Her eyes became worried.

"Harry, what is it? What's wrong?" she questioned him, the concern growing in her voice. Harry remained silent for a moment more. He knew he had to stay professional but he couldn't help it. This was family. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. He sighed as he looked up at her.

"Mum...was killed this morning," Harry said grimly. Once again silence met them. Shantiel's eyes grew wide with fear and she covered her mouth with both hands. Harry went on, "Dad came home from work and he found her…in the lounge. No one knows who did it. They don't know why, either." The woman shook her head in disbelief. Her mum…gone? This had to be some cruel nightmare.

"No, don't say that. Who put you up to this?" Shantiel said with tears in her eyes. Harry knew that it was hard for her to wrap her mind around this. He stepped close to her and wrapped his arms around her. She finally broke down with heart-wrenching sobs. "H-how did it happen? She's so young!This can't be real! It's just not right!"

"I'm so sorry, darling," Harry said, as tears fell down her face. Adonna was his only mum, too, so he truly felt for Shantiel. "I already spoke with Minerva. Luna is going to cover for you for the next couple of weeks." Shantiel nodded numbly, letting him guide her down the corridor.

* * *

Molly entered the Potters' lounge with a tea tray. Shantiel sat on the couch with her husband and stepfather. She held on to Remus's hand in comfort. He was still dazed. This time appeared to be worse than the time his first wife had died. Adonna had been pregnant as well, which meant their baby died too. The silence filled the room. Most of them were thinking the same thoughts...what to do now? The front door opened. Abigail, now eleven, walked in with her five-year-old brother, Maxwell. He broke loose from Abby's hand and ran over to Remus.

"Papa!" The little boy squealed excitedly. Remus barely responded. Harry walked over and picked up his little boy. Shantiel sadly wiped her eyes. Now the children had to know too. Max tilted his head curiously.

"Why is everybody sad?" he asked innocently. Shantiel sighed, gesturing for Abigail to come closer.

"Something really bad happened to Nana this morning," Shantiel started. Max looked at his hands. He looked up at his parents.

"But she'll be okay, right Mummy? Max asked hopefully. Shantiel looked at him as she ran her fingers through his dark hair. She was touched by his pure innocence. She shook her head. Harry continued.

"Nana was…hurt badly by somebody," Harry finished, the grief strong in his voice. "She was hurt badly enough that she passed away."

"What's 'passed away'?" Max asked.

Abby, who was standing next to her brother, spoke up, "It means she died, Max." Then she turned to her parents in concern, "How did she die? Nana wasn't very old. Did someone kill her?"

Abigail was too intelligent for her own good. Harry shook his head and whispered in her ear, so only she could hear, "When Max isn't here, I'll tell you more, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," she whispered in return. "I understand."

* * *

Later that day, Harry was finally able to explain to his precocious eleven-year-old that her Nana had indeed been killed by someone. She had a thousand other questions, none of which Harry felt like answering. But he did the best he could. It was a pity this had to happen just before Abigail was to go off to Hogwarts for her first year. Above all, his little girl wanted to do her best to try and help everybody be happy again.

It was a full day before Harry finally fully questioned Remus about Adonna. He knew that Remus hadn't witnessed anything, but it was important they get to the bottom of who the murderer was before the trail went cold.

"Is there anybody who you can think of that would want her dead?" asked Harry.

"Nobody I know personally," Remus said sadly, "at least not since we've been married."

"Are you certain?" Harry had been informed by Adonna's autopsy report that she had had a faded Dark Mark on her left arm. It was something he had never known about his mother-in-law. Initially, it had come as a shock, but Harry was now a practiced Auror and very little surprised him about people anymore. He was also determined to get to the bottom of things.

"Remus, how come you never told me that Adonna had a Dark Mark?" Harry quizzed him.

"Harry," Remus said with a hint of exasperation, "when you love someone, and they love you back, you don't question their past. You judge them by what they are doing in the present, and what they will do in the future."

Harry nodded, "Of course. I understand." And understand he did, for if people went by Harry's past mental connection with Lord Voldemort, he would indeed by judged as an untouchable person.

"I really don't know how or why Adonna wound up getting that Dark Mark, though, Harry," Remus said honestly. "I wish now that I would have asked her about it. She probably would have told me. But at the time, it simply wasn't important." Harry nodded, mentally adding former Death Eaters to the list of possible suspects.

"All I know about her past is that she was married once before. They had a son together. She lost both of them to a Death Eater attack one night."

"Really?" Adonna had always been so tight-lipped about anything that happened prior to her meeting Harry that he had assumed she was simply a prudish woman who rarely ever did anything wrong. But Harry knew how dangerous assumptions could be.

"Yes," Remus confirmed. "I don't know what she or her husband did for a living. I only know that watching her husband and son be killed changed her. She said it was what inspired her most to become a wizard healer."

"Do you know when she got the Mark?"

"I have no idea," Remus shrugged. "She only mentioned, repeatedly, that it was the greatest mistake of her life and that she would doubtless pay for it later." Remus sat back and mused over what he'd just said. "Perhaps this is what she meant."

"More than likely," Harry said. "And it's my job to get to the bottom of it."


	2. The Platform Again

**CHAPTER TWO:**

**THE PLATFORM AGAIN**

The Potters rushed down the bustling train station. Excitement and nerves were extremely high. Shantiel had taken the morning off to see Abby on her way to Hogwarts for the first time. The young girl's eyes were shining with excitement. Harry was strongly reminded of the first time he walked through the barrier. Abigail stopped between platforms Nine and Ten. Her heart was now in her throat. Why was she suddenly so nervous? She had been waiting for this moment for what seemed like centuries, but now that the moment had come, she wasn't so sure. She turned around and faced her family. Both parents looked at her in concern.

"Little Snidget?" Shantiel questioned her daughter. Abigail approached them. She looked at the ground. Shantiel reached out and tucked hair behind Abby's ear. "What is it, darling?"

Abigail let out a deep breath, "Mum, I can do this..." Shantiel smiled at her and reassuringly caressed her cheek.

"Of course you can. You have waited so long to do this," Shantiel said encouragingly. Abigail finally met her mother's kind gaze. She sighed. Shantiel hugged her tightly.

"I know but you, Daddy, and Max need me. So does Papa," Abigail said. "I feel bad leaving now…after…" she stopped. Shantiel cupped Abby's face in her hands, her voice loving and assuring.

"Oh, my sweet darling girl," Shantiel began, "you are needed at Hogwarts now and I know that you feel you are abandoning us but you and Max are what makes this family so strong. Nana would want you to go as well." She kissed Abby's forehead.

Abby smiled a little and finally nodded in agreement. "Okay, Mum," she said, now regaining her determination and excitement. Shan stood up again. She put a guiding hand on Abby's shoulder. Abby gripped her trolley as she started towards the wall. Shantiel placed her hands on top of her daughter's when they were about to enter the barrier. Abigail saw a moment of darkness before light came back to her sight. Then she saw a majestic deep red engine in front of her with the words in gold: The Hogwarts Express.

* * *

Whatever doubts the little girl had were now gone as pure awe filled her. The Hogwarts Express was every bit as beautiful as she had imagined.

"Wow! Daddy, look at the train!" Max said excitedly.

"We made it!" Abigail was delighted. She had been so worried about crossing the barrier, she hadn't thought about how much fun everything else would be!

Abby looked up at her father's face. Harry looked so proud and happy for her that she was determined to make the most of the experience. Like her mum had said, Nana would want her to do so. The funeral had been particularly hard for Papa Remus...

They quickly made their way toward the train. While waiting for her friend Rose Weasley, Abigail held the grey and white kitten that her mother had gotten for her just days before. Her father stepped up to her and placed his large hand on her shoulder.

"Ready to go, Snidget?" he questioned her with an undercurrent of excitement. At the moment, Abby didn't know who was happier—her or her father. Her eyes let up as she grinned hugely and nodded with vehemence. Harry laughed at the expression on her face. Then she turned somewhat somber again with worry. Harry pulled her aside and said, "It's all right, Little Snidget—we all get nervous. I don't think I smiled the whole time I was on the train!"

Abby looked at him in shock. "Wow! Really?"

"Nope. I was so worried that I would be a dud of a wizard that it was difficult for me to loosen up. And I didn't have any wizard friends at all before I got on the train either."

"I'm sorry, Daddy, that must've been so hard for you," said Abby, throwing her arms about her father's neck.

"It's all right—because it's where I met Hermione and Ron for the first time."

"Wow! Really?" Abby practically shouted again.

"Oh yes, didn't I tell you? Ron had dirt on his nose and Hermione pointed it out to him." Father and daughter shared a little laugh together. "Thattagirl," he said as Abby giggled. "I wanted to give you this before you left." He pulled out an old-looking piece of parchment. "I thought this may come in handy when causing mischief." Smirking, her father handed the paper to her. She put down her kitten so she could take the paper. "The Marauder's Map," she read aloud. Her father answered her unspoken questions. "It's a map of the entire school, and it shows you where all of the occupants are, anytime of the day or night." Abby's eyes grew huge as Harry showed her how to work the map. His eyes twinkled with memories.

"Thank you, Daddy," Abigail said, throwing her arms about her father's neck. They watched Max chase the kitten a little ways. Harry stroked her cheek.

"I am so proud of you, Snidget," Harry said. Abigail could hear the love and joy that rang through his voice. She blushed and tucked hair behind her ear. "Oh—one more gift, too, but it is in your trunk. Don't open it until you get into school, okay?" She nodded again. Shantiel walked back over with a giggling Max. He held the kitten in his hands.

"I'm so proud of you, Abigail," said her mother. "You will have the time of your life at Hogwarts—I'm certain of it!" The pair of them embraced tightly.

"They're here," Shantiel said, looking towards where Ron was walking along with Rose and Hugo.

Abigail ran over to meet Rose. The two gave each other a quick hug. Hermione had decided a few years ago that she couldn't deal with her job at the Ministry anymore. Her family was being directly affected by her, and her marriage was falling apart. She had quit the Magical Law Enforcement job and had became Hogwarts newest and youngest Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor. Harry could tell that the family had been doing much better since she made the switch.

"Hello, Ron," Harry greeted them as they shook hands. The girls were talking rapidly about school. "How is everything?" Harry asked his best mate.

"Good. Hermione left last night for the school," Ron said, pride noted in his voice. More and more families were now coming through the barrier. "It's odd not seeing Draco here, isn't it?" Ron pointed out. Harry hadn't realized it until then but Ron was right. They had learned upon receiving the letters from Hogwarts School that Draco had become the Head of Slytherin and Potions Master at Hogwarts. The warning whistle blew. Suddenly, a tall, dark-haired boy with a surly face pushed passed her very roughly.

"Oi!" she shouted. "What was that for?"

"That's for being a Potter!" he yelled angrily. He stood over her and glared.

"Abigail!" Shantiel called out in the crowd. The blonde child shook herself from the strange angry boy and made her way back through the busy crowd back to her parents. She held her kitten and put her back in her carrier. Shantiel smiled at her daughter as she hugged her once last time. "Did you get everything?" she asked her.

"Yes, Mummy," Abigail answered. Shantiel sighed and kissed Abby's forehead.

"Be good and if you need anything ask Hagrid or use Rose's owl, okay?" Shantiel said again, "I'm so proud of you." Harry walked over with Max who was now crying.

"But I want to go, too!" he wailed, "With Abby!"

"One day, you will, Max," said Harry, patting his son on the back.

"Have a good term, Snidget," Harry said, hugging his daughter with one arm and trying to comfort his son in the other. "I love you."

"Love you too, Daddy," she said, returning the hug.

"Bye bye, Abby. I'll miss you too," Max sniffed through his tears. Abigail gave him a reassuring hug. Rose came up running to her.

"Abby, come on!" Rose said, pulling on Abby's hand. The two little girls ran towards the closest compartment door.


	3. The Helpful Professor

**CHAPTER THREE:**

**THE HELPFUL PROFESSOR**

Harry waved at the Hogwarts Express until the train had disappeared behind other buildings in London. He was abuzz with curiosity about which Hogwarts House Abigail would be Sorted into. It was so good to feel a little bit of joy for Abby amongst all of the sadness of losing his mother-in-law. They had had the funeral just ten days ago. Adonna had been murdered less than a week before that.

Back at his office, Harry perused old lists of Death Eaters and other supporters and former supporters of Lord Voldemort. Most of them had either been incarcerated or killed. And most of those who had been killed were killed by their own cohorts. Harry found it sad how, even now, he was still dealing with these very old issues of his past. Would he never escape the influence of evil? This job had certainly led him to experience the very lowest dregs of society. Harry sighed. He supposed it came with the territory, what with being an Auror and all. _What do you expect, Potter? Tea and crumpets? _he chided himself.

Several names stood out to him. _Alecto and Amycus Carrow (Unknown)._ He shuddered just thinking about them. _Barty Crouch Jr. (Deceased.) _Now there was a name he was happy to cross off the list. Harry had killed the man in self-defense approximately six years previously. _After coming back from the dead,_ Harry reminded himself. _Antonin Dolohov (Unknown.) _He found himself wondering where Dolohov had got off to after fighting with him in the Department of Mysteries all those years ago. The man was a real piece of work. _Severus Snape (Deceased.)_ Harry paused on that name for a long time, remembering what Snape had done by rescuing his friends during the war with the vampires. _Lucius Malfoy (Defected.)_ _I wonder what old Lucius has been up to lately, _Harry thought. He seriously doubted the man had entirely severed his loyalties with those who were rich and powerful. Harry just may have to pay the man a visit, as he had just may have become a prime suspect in Adonna's murder.

* * *

Abigail and Rose climbed aboard the train, looking for a compartment in which to sit. They found one that was occupied. It contained other first years who had yet to be Sorted: Lionel Longbottom and Wesley Weasley.

"Hello Wes," Rose greeted her cousin half-heartedly. Abby knew that Rose did not like him at all. He was rather bossy and a bit of a know-it-all, like his father, Percy.

"All of our parents went to Hogwarts together, so we have a connection," Wesley said.

The four of them looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

"Uhm, so what?" said Rose with a hint of annoyance. "Lots of kids have parents who went to Hogwarts."

"That's true," said Lionel, "but Abigail's parents, your parents, my father, and Wesley's father were all in Gryffindor House."

"Wow. That's a whole lot of Gryffindors," Abigail said, hoping to change the subject. "So has anybody read through their textbooks?"

Lionel's, Wesley's, and Rose's hands shot into the air as if they were already seated in a classroom. Abigail giggled. "We're not in class!" she said.

"You don't have to raise your hands, you know," Abby smiled. "And I was only asking because I didn't think anybody else would have. We'll probably have loads of Ravenclaws from this car."

Wesley sniffed. "Only the most intelligent students get Sorted into Ravenclaw."

"That's not true," protested Rose.

"It is so," Wesley said stubbornly.

Abigail rolled her eyes. "So, who here likes Quidditch?" She changed the subject again.

Three of four hands shot into the air this time. Wesley sniffed again. "Quidditch," he said, "is for meatheads."

"Okay, now I know you're wrong! I'm really good at Quidditch, and do I look like a meathead to you?" Abigail said. The blonde girl stood up, all 4' 9" of her, and she twirled in a circle in the compartment.

"That's right—she's a Seeker!" Lionel said proudly. "Abigail's got the perfect build for being quick and hard to catch, you know." Abby beamed at him.

"There's no such thing as a primary school who lets their students play Quidditch," Wesley argued.

"But there is!" Abigail yelled. "My mother runs it!" Wesley was really beginning to annoy Abby to pieces. She could certainly understand why Rose found him so infuriating. The boy seemed to contradict everything anybody said.

"That," continued Wesley haughtily, "is _not _Quidditch. They don't even let you play with real Bludgers."

"Oh, what do you care anyway?" Rose rejoined. "You don't even like Quidditch!"

"You're right, I don't like Quidditch," Wesley agreed for the first time in the entire conversation. The rest of them stared at him, waiting for him to drop the other shoe. "But I do like being right," he finished. The other three all groaned in exasperation.

A knock came on the door. "Trolley," an older woman said. The children quickly forgot their argument, bought some sweets, and happily tore into them. Abby absolutely loved Pumpkin Pasties, Rose loved Sugar Quills, Lionel loved liquorice, and Wesley loved Ice Mice.

"Leave it to Wes to like eating vermin," Rose mumbled into Abby's ear. Abby nearly choked on her pasty, she started laughing so hard. Wesley looked at them reprovingly, even though he had no idea what had just been said. The girls let Lionel into the joke, and he began laughing too.

Lionel had brought a game of Exploding Snap, and he and the girls played the game together to pass the time. Wesley refused to play, saying something about how it was "too noisy" and how the only gentleman's game was Wizard's Chess.

Rose quickly began arguing again, saying how Wizard's Chess was anything but noise-free, and apparently the two cousin's voices carried down the hall enough to be noticed. Another knock came at the door.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked a tall and handsome fifth year. He had a very deep voice, and he was wearing a Prefect badge. He ran a hand over his chocolate brown hair. Abigail couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Who are you?" she blurted.

"I'm Bryan Vandergard," he smiled as he shook her hand, and Abigail's heart melted a little. Rose was now staring at him too.

"I'm Rose Weasley, and she's my friend Abby Potter," Rose shook Bryan's hand. He didn't look at all how Abigail would've thought a Prefect would look. Abby had always thought a Prefect would be more like Wesley—uppity with glasses and a serious bossiness problem.

"I heard a lot of noise," Bryan continued, "is there anything wrong?"

"No," the four of them piped up. Even Wesley didn't appear to want trouble.

"Okay," said Bryan uncertainly. "If anything _does_ come up, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll be in the Prefect car at the head of the train." He flashed them one last smile before he walked away.

"Did you _see_ him?" Rose squealed after he walked away.

"I know!" Abigail agreed.

"And I thought girls didn't notice boys until they were older," Lionel said dejectedly, as he put his head in his hands and sulked. Wesley sniffed, yet again.

The girls continued talking about Bryan for quite some time until someone tore open the doors to their compartment.

"_Here _you are, Potter," seethed the boy who had run into Abigail at the train station. He twisted little face looked positively furious. He pointed his wand at Abby threateningly. "I'm challenging you do a duel."

"For what?" Abby demanded. "What have I ever done to you? I don't even know who you are!" She was terrified but she refused to show it. Nobody had ever pointed a real wand at her before. Abigail didn't even know how to do real magic, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"First years can't even do real magic," Wesley piped up, quite unhelpfully.

"That's what _you_ think," said the boy, now leveling his wand at Wesley. Tears quickly sprang to Wesley's eyes.

"Don't hurt me!" he wailed.

"It's not you I want anyway," said the boy with disgust, "it's Potter. Now MOVE!" he yelled. Abby, not knowing what else to do, slowly held her hands up and moved out of the compartment and into the corridor.

"Draw your wand," he ordered. Abigail did so. She refused to point it at him, however.

"Defend yourself!" the boy demanded. Abby would not do it.

By now, the boy had caused such a racket that other boys and girls were peeking their heads out of their compartments. Murmuring and fear quickly spread throughout the car.

At the last possible second, right before it looked like the boy was about to curse Abigail, somebody walked into the train car and yelled, "STOP RIGHT NOW!"

It was a man with white-blonde hair. He was tall and wore a long regal black robe. And he marched straight up to the dark-haired boy and yanked his wand right out of his hand.

"That's quite enough of that, Dolohov," he said sternly. "You are being confined to the detention compartment with me," he continued. "And _if_ I ever feel like it, you might get your wand back in a week." The boy called Dolohov jammed his hands in his pockets and stalked out of the car. Just before the blonde-haired man followed him, he turned to Abigail.

"You all right then, Potter?"

Abby blinked. "Yes, sir. How do you know my name?"

"I'm a professor," he said. "It's my job to know who you are." Then he turned and followed Dolohov to the detention car.

For all Abigail knew, this man had just saved her life, and she didn't even know his name yet. And for once, she was glad that Wesley seemed to know everything.

"That was Professor Malfoy," he said, "the head of Slytherin House."


	4. Diabolos Dolohov

**CHAPTER FOUR:****  
**

**DIABOLOS DOLOHOV**

Harry raised the brass knocker and knocked on the door to Malfoy Manor. He had never been there before, but he wasn't at all surprised by Lucius's seeming penchant with frivolity, as evidenced by his obsession with snakes and albino peacocks.

A dour-looking old butler answered the door and gave Harry a look of such pure contempt as he slammed the door, that Harry nearly laughed in spite of himself. He was certainly used to that sort of reception, especially after having become an Auror. For some reason, some people didn't seem pleased to see him! Harry nearly laughed again.

"You can either let me in nicely, or I can force my way through," he called through the door to the butler, "it's your choice." He continued, "I don't believe your master would approve of such vandalism," Harry said reasonably.

Within ten seconds, the door opened again fully.

"Ah," said Harry, "that's more like—"

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Lucius Malfoy demanded as he cut Harry off.

"Just a little investigative work," Harry said nonchalantly.

"Why?"

"To ask you about your past," he continued, trying to stay pleasant.

"And to what part of my past are you referring, Potter?" Lucius said dangerously.

"Oh, you know, the Death Eater part," said Harry.

At that, Lucius attempted to push Harry out of his manor with the heavy door.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Harry cautioned. "I can have you arrested if you refuse to cooperate, you know."

Lucius growled and opened the door fully again. "What do you really want, Potter?"

"All right," said Harry, "I'll level with you. You are wanted for questioning of the murder of Madam Adonna Tonks Lupin."

"She's dead?" Lucius asked, clearly surprised. The man was either a consummate actor, or he didn't really know that Adonna had been killed.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, "and I was hoping you could shed some light on the subject as to why."

"And why would I wish to have anything to do with that woman or her werewolf freak of a husband?" he said, regaining his former hatred.

"I wouldn't talk about her or her husband like that if I were you," Harry said, losing his humor.

"And why not?" Lucius replied.

"Because they are my mother and father-in-law," said Harry with a tight-lipped expression.

"Oh, and now he's angry," Lucius mocked him. "Poor ickle Potter doesn't want anybody to speak ill of his mummy and daddy."

It was so reminiscent of his son Draco that Harry's vision clouded over and he began to see red. He would be damned before he let Lucius know that, though. He drew his wand on him.

"Oh dear," Harry said, regaining his former pleasantness. "Now you've gone and done it."

"Done _what?"_ Lucius demanded. "How dare you draw a wand on me in my own house!"

"You've gone and pissed me off," Harry said, with a light smile on his face. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to come with me now."

"WHAT!" Lucius roared.

"Did I stutter?" said Harry.

"How dare you presume to—"

"Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest for contempt of an Auror of Magical Law Enforcement," Harry said, "_Incarcerous!_" as he pointed his wand at Lucius's hands.

Ropes bound the man's arms behind his back.

Lucius went to shout again, but he thought better of it when Harry pointed his wand so close to his face, it nearly went up his nose. Lucius glowered at him instead.

"That's better," Harry said, "now follow me."

* * *

Abigail followed Rose up the stone steps of the school. Her parents had been right—her first sight of the magnificent castle was beyond description. Now her stomach was flip-flopping with every step. Why was she so worried about the Sorting? She knew whatever house she was Sorted into her parents would still be proud of her. They had told her that everyday ever since she had received her Hogwarts letter.

Hagrid's loud knocking on the wooden door jolted the blonde out of her jumbled thoughts. It didn't take long for the door to be answered. Hermione stood in the doorway in a maroon dress with a black outer robes. Her hair was up in a bun. Her usual cheery expression was replaced with a very stern one. Abigail knew that "Aunt" Hermione took her work very seriously.

"The first years, Professor," Hagrid reported to her. She nodded and moved out of the way.

"Thank you, Hagrid," Hermione said, "Follow me," she told the first years. They walked inside. As he passed by, the half-giant Hagrid gave Abby a reassuring wink before walking back down the path. She was in awe of how beautiful everything truly was. She felt her fears melting away and turning into complete fufillment and a feeling of being home. Abby had finally made it to Hogwarts!

Mutters and whispers were heard all around in the group of first years as they climbed the staircase. Abby knew that Rose was bubbling over about seeing her mother.

They crossed the beautiful foyer to a small antechamber. Voices from the Great Hall could be heard issuing forth from the doorway down the corridor. Hermione stopped to face them. As she looked at them, they all quieted down. Rose unexpectedly piped up, "Hi, M-," the red headed girl was cut off by the meaningful look that Hermione had given her. "I mean Professor," Rose corrected herself bashfully. Abigail tried to muffle her giggle.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Deputy Headmistress Weasley. The Sorting ceremony is about to begin. The Sorting Hat will place you into one of four houses: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin." Professor Weasley started.

Abigail saw the Dolohov boy get a twisted smirk on his face as the last house was spoken. She felt a sight shiver run down her back at that look. More than ever, she was grateful to Professor Malfoy having been on the train to stop Dolohov.

The Deputy Headmistress went on, "Once placed into your new houses, you will have the chance to earn house points. However, you can loose points just as easily. Your house and the students in other houses will become your family while you are here. Now wait here quietly until I return," she said, before she exited out another door. Once again whispers and murmurs started up. Abigail's stomach found the uncertainty that she had forgotten about. She thought about what her dad told her when she had left the station. That comforted her uneasy emotions. Lionel seemed to be more nervous than she was.

"It's okay, Lionel," Abby said reassuringly. "Just be true to yourself and you'll be fine." Lionel relaxed a bit. He gave her a grateful smile.

"Yes, that's right tell the weakling what he wants to hear," Doholov spat at Abigail. "Your father thought you well," he continued with derision. Abby knew better than to give in to his provocations. Professor Weasley returned at just the right moment.

"They are ready for you now," she said, while opening the door in front of them. She led them into the Great Hall. Abigail's eyes scanned the room, trying to soak up as much of it as she could. The ceiling twinkled with the stars of the evening sky.

Her mother had said that it was easy to get lost by looking at it. Abigail had barely even noticed the hundreds of eyes on them. Rose had to stop her once they had gotten to the front of the room, as she had kept walking. Professor Weasley unrolled a scroll. "When I call your name you will file by, one by one, to sit on the stool to be Sorted," she instructed them.

"Hailey Anderson," her voice rang out. A brown-haired girl in pigtails nervously shuffled up to the front of the group. "I can't bloody believe I'm first," she mumbled.

"Language, please," snipped Professor Weasley. Hailey looked down and followed her to the front of the Great Hall, sat on the stool, and the Sorting Hat was placed on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Hat after about thirty seconds. There was polite applause from the Hufflepuff table as the little girl got off the stool and sat down with the rest of her class. The other first years stood clustered together, as if drawing support from each other's nearness. Everybody except the Dolohov boy. He stood off to the side with his arms folded and a snide look on his face. He exuded extreme confidence.

"Diabolos Dolohov," said Professor Weasley. Had Abby just imagined it, or was there a hint of regret in her voice? Even the boy's name sounded evil. He followed Professor Weasley into the Great Hall, arms still folded. He had barely sat down on the chair and the Hat had barely touched his head, when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" Dolohov punched a fist in the air as he got down off the stool. Part of the Slytherin table stood up as one and welcomed him into their ranks. It appeared some of his classmates already knew who he was.

After a few more names, it was Lionel's turn. He was actually calm, calmer than most of them, as he turned and smiled at Rose and Abigail.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat called after having sat on Lionel's head for about two minutes. Lionel turned around and saluted his two friends before joining the Hufflepuff table.

Two more students later, it was Abigail's turn. She looked longingly at the Hufflepuff table. If she were Sorted there, at least she could sit by somebody she knew!

"Abigail Potter," Professor Weasley called out. Although her face remained stern, the professor gave Abby a little wink as she placed the Sorting Hat on her head. Abby winked back.

"Ah, yes," said the Hat, "it is good to Sort another Potter." Abigail was shocked to hear it speaking to her inside her own head. She flinched so hard that she almost fell off the stool. Professor Weasley caught her and nearly everybody in the audience laughed.

But the Hat continued, "Very complicated indeed. You have many traits from many houses. Curiosity rules you, as does the need to fly. Compassion is your middle name. You refuse to stoop to the level of fighting others, even if they provoke you. But your sense of loyalty is unmatched. Therefore, I had best Sort you into GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat shouted. Warm tingles filled Abigail's heart and soul. She had just been Sorted into Gryffindor House, the same House her parents had come from. She couldn't wait to send them an owl and tell her father! He would be over the moon, she just knew it!

After Abby happily joined her new friends at the Gryffindor table, she turned around and waited for her best friend Rose Weasley to be Sorted. Because Rose's last name was so far back into the alphabet, she was Sorted second-to-last.

As Professor Weasley placed the Hat on Rose's head, she looked at her daughter intently. Abigail could tell Rose's mother was nearly as nervous as Rose herself.

The Sorting Hat sat upon Rose's head, not giving any sign whatsoever of announcing her house. Minutes ticked by; Abigail heard whispers of, "Hat Stall" throughout the Great Hall. Professor Weasley turned to everybody in the hall and called for silence. She wouldn't let the Sorting of her first daughter be interrupted for anything.

Abigail tapped the shoulder of a third year Gryffindor next to her and whispered, "Excuse me, but what's a Hat Stall?"

"It's when the Hat can't decide what House to Sort a student into," he explained. "They are few and far between. The longest known Hat Stall lasted nearly an hour, and it was 25 years ago," he said.

"Wow! Really?" said Abby.

"Yes," answered the boy. "And it happened to Deputy Headmistress Weasley herself. Incidentally, welcome to Gryffindor," he finished.

"Thank you," answered Abby. _Huh,_thought Abigail, _like mother, like daughter._

The Hat took nearly twenty-five minutes to Sort Abigail's best friend, but when it did, it finally shouted, RAVENCLAW!"

Immediately following that Sorting, Professor Weasley finally broke decorum to give her daughter a big hug in front of everyone. Abigail imagined that she was telling Rose how proud of her she was. Rose's eyes were shining with happiness. Abigail could hardly believe it. She knew Rose was clever, but wow! A Ravenclaw!

At long last, it was Wesley's turn. He looked a little smug, as if he knew into which House he would be Sorted already. He sat on the chair, folded his arms, and Professor Weasley placed the Hat on his head.

Almost immediately, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" A look of supreme surprise and then disappointment crossed Wesley's face as he removed the Hat from his head. He looked as if he were about to burst into tears. Abigail didn't know what to think. How was it that Rose got Sorted into Ravenclaw, and Wesley didn't? Perhaps book smarts weren't the only thing that determined who got into that house...

Professor Weasley looked like she felt sorry for her nephew, but she didn't dare show it. Instead, she lead Wesley down the aisle to the Gryffindor table and sat him down next to Abigail. "Look after him, okay?" she said quietly to Abigail. She looked at Wesley as he sniffled. Abby nodded uncertainly. What, exactly, was she supposed to do with a crying Wesley? _Oh well, _thought Abigail, _at least there's tonight to look forward to! _She couldn't wait to send a letter to her parents!


	5. Common Room

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

**COMMON ROOM**

Abigail quickly dove right into the delicious food that appeared in front of them on the table. Her stomach just reminded her of when she last ate. She started in on her dinner and noticed Wesley wasn't eating. He sat there with the most devastated look on his face. Unable to help herself, Abigail leaned over and tried to give him a friendly one-armed hug. He pushed her away in disgust, "I don't need you feeling sorry for me!" he shouted at her.

She felt a surge of anger build up inside of her, "All I am doing is trying to be your friend and help you," she said, slightly hurt but his reaction. He folded his arms again and glared at her.

"I don't need _your _help," he snapped at her hotly. _Fine, if that is how you want it_, Abigail thought to herself in annoyance. If that was how he was going to act, she doubted he would get along with anyone. That made Abby feel bad for him slightly. She sighed turning back to her plate.

"Abby!" she heard Rose called excitedly from the end of the Gryffindor table. Rose ran down the aisle. She squeezed herself between one student and sat next to Abby. Her brown eyes still glistened with uncontained excitement. "Isn't this amazing!" Rose exclaimed. The girls squealed excitedly.

"I have never seen anything so incredible in my life!" Abby beamed. Wesley turned slightly and huffed loudly. Both girls ignored him.

"I can't wait to tell my parents about everything!" Rose giggled happily. "If you would like I could lend you my owl?" she offered as she took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Yes, thank you, that would be wonderful!" Abby said gratefully. After they had finished eating, they shared one last hug before Rose went back to her table. Abby felt content that she was there. Her mother was had been right. Her Nana would have been so proud of her. If only Nana were still around... She could see the Prefects standing up.

"First years, follow us," Bryan said from the far end of the table. All of the students rose and began walking towards the marble staircase. The young girl felt like she had to drag Wesley with her the whole way there. "Be careful, the staircases do move on their own from time to time," the Prefect warned. "Also, be wary of Peeves the Poltergeist. He will try to confuse or prank you." Her parents had both told their daughter about the mischievous Poltergeist that haunted the school.

They climbed all the way up to the seventh floor. Abigail could see a giant portrait of a woman in a pink dress. Bryan stopped them just in front of the portrait. "Password?" the woman said.

"Fairy gumdrops," Bryan said immediately. She smiled at him and her portrait swung away from the wall to reveal a doorway into the common room. As soon as Abigail entered the room it reminded her of her own house. She had sometimes wondered where her parents got the ideas for decorating their home in red and gold—and now here it was, in front of her. Abby couldn't wait to throw herself onto one of those squashy armchairs!

The boys and girls were shown to their dormitories. Most of them were exhausted from the day's excitement. Abigail found her things underneath her bed. Her kitten, Willow, was sitting on the top of it. Abby briefly petted the cat. Her mind wandered back to Diabolos Dolohov. Why did he hate her so much? She just couldn't understand it. She sincerely hoped Professor Malfoy wasn't going to let him get away with anything. She sat Willow back onto the bed so she could grab a quill and parchment. Abby pulled out her trunk and opened it. When she did, she could not believe her eyes.

Something black and shimmery lay on top of her things. Could this really be her father's Invisibility Cloak? She quickly grabbed it. Why had he given it to her, especially when she knew he used it for work? She opened it to look at it. The silver material slid through her hands. She heard something drop right by her foot. Setting the Cloak on the bed, she picked up what had fallen. It was a a letter with her name on it. She smiled as she saw her father's handwriting and read:

Snidget,

I didn't want your mother to know that I gave this to you. I thought it would come in handy if you had any adventures at school. Use it well. I am so proud of you and love you so much.

Dad

Abby set down the note. She held the Cloak once more in awe, still hardly believing the thing was now hers. She folded it neatly and put it away back in her trunk and quickly began a letter in reply to her father.

Dad,

Thank you so much for the gifts! You and Mum were right—it s wonderful here. I already love it. You won't believe it but I was Sorted into Gryffindor! The same as you and Mum. I miss you both. Max, too. Please give Max hugs and kisses for me. I love you! Write back soon.

Abby

She rolled it up and started down stairs where Rose's owl was waiting. Familiar voices stopped her, "Dad, I hate it. I don't belong here! I'm smarter than Gryffindors!" Wesley pleaded with his father. Abigail leaned up against the wall. Apparently, she had come upon a private conversation between Wesley and his father, Percy Weasley.

Percy looked wounded. "I was in Gryffindor, you know," he reminded. Wesley glared at him and stalked the other way. "I don't care! I demand another Sorting!"

"As head of Gryffindor, Wesley, I cannot possibly arrange such a thing. Once Sorted, you are Sorted." Hurt was obvious in his father's eyes.

"Of course there is a way, there has to be! I'll ask Headmistress McGonagall to re-sort me," Wesley said desperately. Percy sighed.

"You will ask her no such thing. I will not allow it. As I said, once you are placed in a house it can't be changed," he told his son solemnly. "You were placed in this house for a reason." Wesley continued to glare at him. Abigail felt even worst for both.

"That isn't true! Change me to Ravenclaw!" Wesley demanded. Percy's features were more stern than ever.

"Father or not, you will not talk to me that way. You will not be re-sorted and that is final!" Percy said to him firmly. Wesley hung his head, on the verge of tears again, and then he walked towards the boys' dorms. What did it matter if he was a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw? Apparently the Hat had a reason for putting him there.

Abby waited a few seconds more before entering the common room. She saw Rose's beautiful red owl outside the window. She let the owl inside. It patiently let her tie the scroll to its leg. The owl took off when Abby had finished telling it where to send the letter.

Then she sat on the window seat, wondering what the year had in store for her. Even though Wesley wasn't happy, Abigail certainly was and she couldn't wait to see what the next day had in store.

* * *

The questioning session between Harry and Lucius went rather interestingly. Harry was pretty sure that Lucius was still dabbling in the Dark Arts. He was also spending time with some of his former Death Eater friends. Harry was interested in whether or not any of these meetings involved any plannings of murders. It would have been much easier to get Lucius to answer questions if the man didn't always act as if he had something to hide.

Harry was also interested in where Lucius was the morning of Adonna's murder, or if he had had anything to do with the planning thereof. As far as Harry could tell, it didn't look like Lucius had anything to do with it. The man had a somewhat solid alibi which Harry checked up on. Lucius Malfoy had claimed he was in Knockturn Alley at Bourgin and Burkes that morning. It sounded a little odd that somebody would be at a dark magic shop so early in the day, but Burke had last confirmed the fact that Lucius had been there.

As he didn't have any real reason to detain him, Harry released Lucius. His gut feeling was that the man knew more than he was letting on, but Harry would have to let him go for now.

All in all, it had been a rather frustrating day, and Harry couldn't wait to get home. He had a rather fitful sleep that night because his son Max was upset from his elder sister having gone of the boarding school at Hogwarts. He couldn't wait to hear from his girl the next morning, and to learn which house she had been Sorted into!


	6. Deep Depression

**CHAPTER SIX:**

**DEEP DEPRESSION**

Harry went to visit Remus yet again. He tried to be with his father-in-law at least twice a week, if not more. It seemed like they were losing him. And when Remus opened the door, he looked simultaneously annoyed and grateful, but Harry knew the man had no business being alone.

Remus had sunk into a deep depression ever since Adonna had been killed. He tried his level best to avoid Harry at times, but Harry was persistent. Harry had seen the signs of people who were pre-suicidal before, and the more time Remus spent by himself, the worse he got.

The key was to keep the man going, keep distracting him and not let him withdraw so far into himself.

The morning after Harry had sent his Abigail off to school, he received a letter by owl post at his office from his daughter. He knew it would contain news about what house she had been Sorted into, so he waited to open it until he could go to his wife's school at noon to open the letter. He sent word to Remus to meet them there, too. Harry hoped that by doing so, he would be able to share a little joy with his father-in-law. And so it was with great excitement that Harry opened Abby's letter and read it.

"Ha! YES!" he exclaimed as he threw a fist in the air. He handed the letter to Shan and whooped all around the room. "Abby's in Gryffindor! GRYFFINDOR! WOOHOO!"

Shantiel and even Remus laughed joyfully at Harry's reaction. Even Harry hadn't known he would be so pleased, but it was such a gratifying thing to see his little girl was now following in his footsteps. And so was Max. Max had danced all around the room with Harry.

He didn't quite understand what the deal was, that all the adults in the room had been Gryffindors, but he knew that his father was happy, and that's all that mattered.

"Why are we so happy, Daddy?" asked Max as he jumped up and down and clapped his hands.

"Because, Max, your sister was Sorted into Gryffindor," Harry said, just a tad breathlessly. "You'll learn what that means when you go to Hogwarts."

Remus actually spoke, "Max, it means that Abby has been put in a place where she will have a family away from home."

Max contemplated what this meant before replying, "So it means that Abby won't be lonely?"

The three adults looked at each other in amazement. Was it possible that a 5-year-old really understood the concept of Houses?

"Yes, Max," said Remus as he placed a loving hand on his grandson's shoulder. "That's exactly what it means."

Then the little boy turned and said to his parents, "Then can't we send Papa Remus to Hogwarts? That way he won't be lonely without Nana anymore."

At first, Harry was a bit mortified. He didn't want his father-in-law to think that he'd spoken out of turn with Max about him behind his back.

But Remus knelt down right on front of Max to look him straight in the eye. "I have been really sad since Nana died, haven't I, Max?" His voice was laced with melancholy as he spoke, but he tried to remain kind. Harry and Shantiel each held their breath, not daring to interrupt.

As far as Harry knew, this was the first time Remus had opened up about his grief to anyone. Max nodded solemnly to his grandpapa.

"You don't hardly talk at all," he said, "and this is the first time I've heard you laugh since Nana, died." Harry could see the gears turning in Remus's mind. How would he respond?

"I miss Nana, Max. Really badly. She was one of my favorite people in the whole world," Remus explained. "You remember when your owl, Ferula, died?" Max nodded again.

"I was sad for a really long time because I missed her," Max confirmed. "But...but you know what?"

"What, Max?"

"Mummy and Daddy taught me that she's okay. Mummy and Daddy say that Ferula misses me too, and that as long as I keep her in my heart and remember how much I love her, it will be okay."

Remus responded by enveloping Max in a huge hug. In spite of himself, tears slipped down his cheeks as he embraced his grandson.

He finally spoke, his voice full of emotion, "Your mummy and daddy are very smart people."

"It's true, Dad," Shantiel said, tears pouring down her cheeks as well. "We miss Mum, too, but she would have wanted us to carry on without her."

"And I haven't been doing a very good job of that, have I?" said Remus.

Max shook his head again. "We've missed you too, Papa. Please come back to us?"

"He's right," Harry chimed in. "Anytime you need us, Dad, you're most welcome here."

"Very well," said Remus with resolve, "I promise I'll try to do better." Remus stood up and the two men embraced.

"Welcome back, Dad," Harry said, "you've stayed away far too long."

* * *

The owl had nearly dropped the letter in the campfire.

"Bloody bird," swore a scruffy-looking twisted-faced man. He wondered who on earth would send him a letter. _Probably someone who wants money,_ he thought. The man opened the letter and read:

Your son was Sorted into Slytherin House. I thought you ought to know.

There was no signature. He had a sneaking suspicion who it was from, though. Only a select few people even knew he was still on the run, much less still alive after all these years. The man supposed he ought to care about his son, but right now, the only thing that motivated him was revenge. Revenge against all those who were disloyal to the Dark Lord. A few individuals had managed to elude him until now, but he was closing in on them, too. What made it even better is that they didn't even know he was after them. Soon, Lucius Malfoy would pay the price as well. His son Draco would too. It was simply a matter of time.

* * *

And so it was with great anticipation that Abigail Potter walked off to Potions class. She knew that Professor Malfoy taught the course, and she couldn't wait to thank him for having saved her life the day before. It was a struggle carrying the cauldron, books, and all of her other supplies, and as a result, she showed up for class just barely before it started. The only place left to sit was next to Wesley.

Abby sighed and hefted her belongings onto the desk in the very front of the room. Wesley sat there watching and didn't even offer to help her.

"Thanks for all the help, Weasley," Abby said sarcastically, deliberately using his last name. It wouldn't have been so bad, but everybody knew the 'untouchable' desk was the one all the way in front. Only the class berks sat there. And the last thing that Abigail wanted was to appear like a berk to Professor Malfoy. She had read in her Potions manual that morning, attempting to gain enough knowledge to hopefully impress him, but she had simply run out of time. She was no Wesley Weasley.

"Welcome to class," said Professor Malfoy, as he stepped out from behind his desk at the front of the room." He was wearing a different black cloak than he had the day before. He steepled his fingers as his cloak flowed about him.

"Many students assume that Potions Class is akin to cooking in a kitchen," and several students nodded their heads. "That is simply not true." The students who had nodded their heads were now still, and self-consciously looking around at all those who might have been looking.

"Potions is far, far more finicky and delicate than anything you will make for dinner," the blonde man continued. "And I highly doubt that cooking class would teach you how to transform your appearance, turn invisible, brew luck, and lure the love of your life."

The students were all looking around at each other with awe. Abigail wondered if potions could really do all those things that he said. Wesley raised his hand.

"Is it true that you can actually make liquid luck?"

"I can make anything," said Professor Malfoy with supreme confidence, "as you will soon learn."

"No, I didn't mean _you_," Wesley said with frustration, "I meant you," he gestured, pointing all around the class.

"Ah," said the professor, "I do not know if _you_ are capable of making anything, Mr. Weasley," and Wesley blushed as those in the class giggled. "You can learn a lot, if you are willing, but you will have to prove yourself to me," said Professor Malfoy. "One does not gain respect until one earns it."

Wesley looked abashed, and Abigail felt sorry for him. Is that what being a perfectionist was truly like? Needing to be right about everything, all the time? Abby had a sneaking suspicion that Professor Malfoy was going to teach Wesley a lot this term, whether he wanted to learn it or not.


	7. Pay Attention

**CHAPTER SEVEN:**

**PAY ATTENTION**

Professor Percy Weasley stood primly at the front of the History of Magic class. Wesley, his son, walked in and studiously avoided his father's gaze. Abigail knew that he was remembering the argument they had the night before. Wesley obviously hadn't forgiven his father for making him stay in Gryffindor. Abby could only imagine how awkward this class would be. Wesley also had quite a miserable time in Professor Malfoy's class. The teacher didn't seem to like him very much at all. Then again, Abigail doubted that anybody actually liked Wesley Weasley. He was a difficult person to like.

And so it was with that in mind that she continued to sit by him in all of their classes. She hadn't really wanted to, but she stood by what the deputy headmistress had said about looking after him. Although with Wesley's attitude problem, she seriously doubted how much more of him she could take.

It was the third class of the day, and she was already hungry again. Abby had been so excited for classes that she hadn't eaten that much at breakfast that morning.

Professor Percy gave the usual pleasantries about being in a new year in a new class at a new school and then had the students open up their textbooks. Much groaning ensued, as Abigail knew that the students were hoping to get out of doing any homework the first day.

The professor read aloud the book intro to the class. Abby tried to pay attention, but she was hungry and it was difficult to focus properly. Many of the other students doodled on their parchment as the teacher read.

Wesley leaned over and said, "I heard that for years, the teacher for History of Magic was a ghost."

"Really?" Abby whispered back.

"Yeah, his name was Professor Binns."

"Pay attention!" shouted Professor Percy, as he rapped his wand across the front of Wesley's desk. Wesley jumped.

"The origins of magic during recorded history are not well-known," the professor continued, "but the ability as we know it started to appear in the third century B.C." Abigail tried to take notes, but the professor's voice soon blended into the background. Abby found her mind drifting over to thinking about Quidditch tryouts. They wouldn't be happening for awhile yet, but she couldn't wait until they did! She would be one of the best Seekers that Gryffindor had ever seen, maybe even as good as her father...

Abigail imagined herself on the Quidditch pitch, holding the Quidditch cup, after having helped to win all of the games against the other houses. It was a long way off, but she could picture it happening already. The crowd was cheering and she was flying high with her fellow teammates.

"Wooo!" she shouted. The class laughed at her daydream reaction.

"Potter?" the professor repeated. "Would you care to tell us what's so important that you feel like interrupting the class?" With a touch of humiliation, Abby realized it was the third time he had addressed her. Evidently, she had been talking to herself.

"No, sir," said Abby, her cheeks coloring up. "I wouldn't."

"I see," Professor Percy said, "then I suggest you _pay attention_ and do not interrupt the learning process for your fellow students."

"Yes, sir," Abby replied, "sorry, sir."

"This is a very important class," Professor Percy said unctuously, as he addressed the students. "One cannot properly know what one's future is about, until one has learned one's origins. And the only way to learn about one's origins is to study history in a classroom such as this one."

"Or you could have a time turner," Wesley mumbled.

"What was that?" Professor Percy said, sharply turning back toward his son.

Wesley gained a little backbone this time, and replied with bravado, "I said that you could study your origins if you had a time turner." This caused many students to murmur to each other. Abby had heard of time turners before. She knew that one could travel through small increments of time with them. She also knew that her "Aunt" Hermione had used one whilst at Hogwarts, so she could attend all of her classes.

"Will it help you all to pay attention if we spoke about time turners?" questioned Professor Percy. He got an enthusiastic reply from his students. "Very well," he said, "time turners are a magical device that allows one to travel through time, by the hour. They are a device that should have never been invented, as the potential for harm to the time line is so great. People began trying to prevent loved ones from dying, or even messing about with changing pivotal historical events, such as battles."

Abigail thought of her Nana. If she got the chance, Abby certainly would have tried to prevent her from dying. She could understand how tempting such a device could be, and found herself wondering where she could get one...

"The Ministry of Magic attempted to regulate the use of time turners, until such time when all known time turners in existence were eventually destroyed," continued the professor.

"Who destroyed them?" asked Abigail. She felt her heart sinking again, hope of rescuing her grandmother fading out of her mind.

Professor Percy gave her a hard look before replying, "There was a battle at the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries some years ago, where the time turners were being held. Those involved accidentally destroyed the time turners in the ensuing melee."

"Who was involved?" Wesley asked. He was paying rapt attention, as was the rest of the class.

Again, the professor gave Wesley and Abigail a hard look. He continued, "It was Harry Potter, his friends, Death Eaters, and an organization called the Order of the Phoenix."

Suddenly, everybody stared at Abigail at the mention of her father. She gulped. Her own father had been responsible for destroying the time turners? She could feel herself coloring up again.

Thankfully, Professor Percy continued, "So don't think that you can visit your past using a time turner, because first, they don't go back far enough, and second, even if they did, they no longer exist." Abigail and Wesley looked at each other. She knew he was thinking the same thing he was. If they were made once before, they could be made again...

* * *

At lunch time, the big discussion centered around time turners. Abigail simply couldn't help herself. What with her father having helped destroy them, and wanting to use one to prevent her Nana from being killed, it was all she could think about.

"What do time turners look like?" Lionel wondered.

"The are made up of an hour glass and three co-centric rings, that spin around each other, like a gyroscope," said Wesley.

Lionel blinked. "What's a gyroscope?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Why do you have to explain everything like such a moron?" she asked. "Look, we can go to the library after we eat and go look at pictures of them." And so they did.

The Hogwarts library contained books on the subject of time turners. Dozens of pictures of them existed; there were large ones, small ones, plain ones, ornate ones. No two time turners were exactly alike. And it looked like the furthest back or forward in time they could go was two weeks. It had been nearly a month since Abby's nana was murdered.

Rose suddenly looked directly at Abby, her eyes growing huge. It was then that Abigail knew her best friend had picked up on her line of thinking. "You're thinking about...your Nana..." she leaned over and whispered to Abby. "Aren't you?"

Abby didn't do anything except for stare at Rose. How could she have known? "It could never happen, you know," continued Rose into Abby's ear. "You'd be changing the future."

"For the better!" Abby said vehemently. Lionel and Wesley stopped pouring over the pictures and stared at Abby for her outburst.

"What are you staring at?" Abigail demanded angrily. "None of you have ever lost someone close to you, so you wouldn't know what it's like to want to change the past," she sniffled. "My mum, dad, and grandpapa have all been so sad, that you have no idea." She stared wistfully at the books in front of them. "If I could just find a time turner, and go back to Nana's house, I could stop that person from murdering her."

Wesley's eyes opened wide. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be, Abby? Confronting a murderer?"

"Do you even know who you're looking for?" Lionel asked reasonably.

"No," Abby sniffled some more, and wiped her nose across the back of her robe sleeve. Her friends were right. There was nothing she could do about preventing the death of her nana, but she still couldn't help but hold onto that last hope...

* * *

Harry couldn't put a finger on it, but for several days now he had a premonition that something big was going to happen. _This must have been what it was, _he thought to himself as he examined the murder scene.

Lucius Malfoy had been killed, apparently by the Avada Kedavra curse. It was all over the news; even though the man had been somewhat underground for a number of years, people were coming out of the woodwork, doubtless trying to get their hands on his fortune. They knew that ever since Draco Malfoy had fought for the light in the vampire war, that Lucius Malfoy had disowned his son.

Harry questioned Narcissa Malfoy, but she hadn't been home at the time Lucius had been murdered on Malfoy Manor's grounds. It was identical to Adonna's murder; spouse not at home, no witnesses, and no evidence left behind. He had no doubt the two cases were linked; it was just too much of a coincidence that less than a week after Harry had brought Lucius in for questioning, the man was now dead. Harry was doubtless on the right track, whatever that was. He was simply getting too close to the truth, and he certainly hoped he could figure out the murderer's whereabouts soon. Harry had a feeling that the killer wouldn't stop at Lucius Malfoy.


	8. Lionel Leaves

**CHAPTER EIGHT:**

**LIONEL LEAVES**

Muggles Studies class was a breeze for Abigail. At first, she thought it would be boring, but it wasn't like that at all. Abby's father had grown up in the Muggle world, and as a result, he had raised his children as both Muggle and magical. For example, Abby knew that Harry had integrated the use of computers, cell phones, and email in with his investigative team. The rest of the wizard world was hopelessly archaic in some ways, however. They much preferred to do things with owls, Floo powder, and memos in the form of enchanted paper airplanes that could fly.

The first week of lessons in Muggle Studies had consisted of Professor Hermione Weasley holding up various object of Muggle origin and getting the children to identify them. This was one area where Rose and Abby far outdistanced Wesley with their knowledge.

But far, the favorite object had been an electric guitar. Normally, itmes that ran on electricity didn't function at Hogwarts, but as the objects were being used for educational purposes, they functioned quite well in Professor Weasley's classroom. The biggest surprise had come when the professor had brought in a special guest to actually play the guitar for them. It was Stevelle Barry, a member of an extremely popular wizard rock band called "Levicorpus".

"How are you doing that?" Abby asked Stevelle as she played some particularly ornate guitar riffs.

"Don't you need eleclickety to make that thing work properly?" said Wesley.

The band member looked at Professor Weasley and the two women shared a meaningful glance.

"Let's just say that they're magically enchanted and leave it at that," Stevelle said, a mischievous smile spreading across her lips.

Professor Weasley's class was the talk of the school, as she liked to incorporate inventions from Muggle pop culture and technology. And so it was with great excitement that Rose, Abyy, Wesley, and Lionel all met up for dinner in the Great Hall, talking about the latest thing that Professor Weasley had brought in for her class. It was a microwave oven. Of course the thing hadn't looked anything like an oven. The wizard children were certain that the Muggles had harnessed real magic in a metal box. Wesley was currently discussing one of his theories of how microwaves supposedly worked.

"Maybe," said Wesley, "there's wands that cast a heat spell over the food. I wonder if the start button initiates the spell."

Rose rolled her eyes. She, too, had been raised as Abigail had, as her mother was Muggle-born. "It's all about wavelengths, Wesley. If you can make the wavelength vibrate at the proper frequency, it creates heat."

"Much the way wands create heat when used," Wesley argued. "Call it what you want, but it sounds like magic to me."

"Maybe magic and electricity are the same thing with a different name," Lionel said reasonably. "Have you ever thought about that?"

The four of them stared around at each other a bit in contemplation.

"Nah," Wesley said at last, "can't be." And they actually left it at that.

Suddenly, Professor Hermione Weasley herself appeared at the entrance to the Great Hall. Abby noticed how very worried she looked. As soon as the professor saw them, she walked over, ringing her hands the entire time.

"Lionel," she said, "I require you to follow me. Please father your belongings."

Lionel's face froze; he looked embarrassed and mortified at the same time, as if certain he had been caught doing something. He gulped, looked up at Professor Weasley and sadi quietly, "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, don't worry—you're not in trouble," she added quickly as Lionel gathered his things. By now, the entire Great Hall had quieted down and was staring in their direction. So it was with much curiosity and a little apprehension that Abby, Rose, and Wesley watched their friend walk away with the deputy headmistress.

* * *

Harry had become obsessed. The crime scene reports were such that both Lucius's and Adonna's wands had both gone missing., and Harry knew that was no accident. He also knew the biggest reason why was because these wands would most likely be the only thing left to implicate the killer.

It was also true that the murderer had more than likely taken the wands as some sort of status symbol or trophy. And it was that reason why Harry was obsessed. Where ever those wands were, the killer wouldn't be far behind. So Harry had to find them as soon as humanly possible.

* * *

Later that evening, Rose, Abby, and Wesley were called to McGonagall's office. She was there along with Professor Hermione Weasley. McGonagall spoke.

"Mr. Longbottom has asked us to speak with you regarding his departure this evening. Professor Weasley?" She turned now to Hermione, who spoke.

"Lionel's great-grandmother has passed away from natural causes. She left behind a rather large estate and Lionel's father is the family's executor. That means he's in charge of making all of the decisions for his grandmother's estate," she explained. "Lionel's father has also requested that his son be sent home for the duration, while he makes final arrangements and gets the family's affairs in order."

Abby, Wesley, and Rose all looked at one another. So that's why Lionel had gone and not come back. His father needed him. Abby certainly knew what that was like and how that felt.

Rose said, "Is there anything we can do?"

Hermione gave a small smile before replying, "I'm glad you asked. Lionel doesn't know how long he'll be gone, so he was hoping you, his friends, could all take turns taking notes for him, so he may continue with his studies and supplement his text as he resides at home."

There was a pause beofre Wesley said, "Lionel considers me a friend?" He sounded truly mystified.

"Apparently so, Mr. Weasley," replied McGonagall. "What do you say, then? Will you take lecture notes for Lionel while he's away?"

"We'll do anything we can to help, Professor," Abby replied as the other two nodded. "It's the least we could do. Thank you for telling us."

"Thank you fto the three of you," said McGonagall. "It shows understanding and maturity when first years can step up and help their friend when he is in need. I would hate to see Mr. Longbottom have to repeat his first term due to a death in the family. You assistance is greatly needed and appreciated."

Then Hermione gave the three of them each and extra quill, ink, and parchment specifically for the task at hand. They thank the professors again and headed out of the Headmistress's office, discussing what had just happened.

That night, Abby wrote her father a letter about her concerns. She hadn't wanted to worry him, but school hadn't all been rainbows and roses. It was with great deliberation she sat down and wrote:

Dear Dad,

I'm worried about Lionel. His great-gran died, and now he's left school.

Of course, you probably already know this, since you work with his dad, but I feel bad for them.

We know what it's like to lose a grandmother, don't we?

There's also this boy named Diabolos Dolohov and he absolutely hates me.

I don't even know why, but he tried to start something with me on the train to school.

He wanted to duel me, Dad. It was scary, but I refused to rise to the bait.

You might not believe this, but it was Professor Malfoy who stopped him hurting me.

I really hope you and Mum are proud of me for doing the right thing.

I miss you and love you.

Love,

Abby

* * *

Harry and Shantiel read Abby's latest letter with some concern. He had indeed know that Neville's gran had finally passed away, as Neville had taken some leave from work. They hoped with her that Lionel, Neville, and Luna would be okay.

Upon reading the Abby's letter, Shantiel wanted to march straight to Hogwarts and demand that her best friend, Hermione, do something to discipline the errant boy who had threatened her child. But Harry calmed her down, saying that Dolohov had doubtless already been punished in several ways for raising his wand against another student. It was a serious offense, and Harry didn't know anybody more serious than McGonagall or Hermione when it came to punishing people who broke the rules. He found himself thinking about how ironic it was that his old nemesis, Draco Malfoy, had been the one to rescue Harry's daughter from a wand duel.

And Dolohov...Harry began to wonder if Antonin Doholov had had a son. He was hardly the only wizard with that last name. But if this boy's temper was any indication, the answer to the son question was a most emphatic yes. And if so, Abigail certainly had her work cut out for her trying to avoid him.. It seemed as if anybody with the Dolohov name was cruel and sadistic. It didn't even appear as if the young amongst them were spared.

Harry was very proud of his little girl for not dueling the Dolohov boy. He knew that he himself would not have been brave enough to stand his ground and say "no". As Harry had long since learned, refusing to fight wasn't a weakness—it was its own type of courage. He loved that about his daughter—the calm Gryffindor—as he had come to think of her.


	9. Family Heirloom

**CHAPTER NINE:**

**FAMILY HEIRLOOM**

It was a full week later before Lionel returned. When he did, he was quite sad. Lionel's father Neville had told him that his great-gran was very hard-nosed when Neville was a boy. However, the old woman had positively doted on Lionel. As a result, his great-gran and Lionel had developed a deep relationship as he was growing up.

"I can't believe she's really gone," said Lionel, as the four of them spoke in study hall. He looked directly at Abby. "How do you deal with it? It hurts so bad..."

Abigail put her arm around Lionel and comforted him. He did his best not to cry. Rose patted his arm and Wesley just looked glum. It couldn't have been more obvious that he had no idea what to do for Lionel.

"You just kind of let yourself think about her, let yourself feel it. Remember all the happy times you had anytime you start to feel sad. Let it fill you up inside, and eventually the bad feeling goes away," said Abby.

"Okay, I'll tried that," Lionel sniffled. Then he whispered, "I need to talk to you in private." Abby thought quickly, "We'll meet in front of the kitchens tonight one hour before bedtime."

Lionel nodded. "See you later," he mumbled.

* * *

Harry decided he should follow up on his hunch of investigating the concurrent murder cases. It was time to head to Hogwarts School. The person he wanted to interview was most likely there anyway. But he decided he should contact Hermione and Minerva first. And so it was with mixed emotions that he returned to his old school.

"Well, hello, Professors," Harry greeting the two women in the foyer of Hogwarts. "And hello, Snidget," said Harry.

"Welcome, Harry."

"Hi, Harry."

"Hello, Daddy!" Abigail embraced him. It was nice to have the perfect excuse to come to the school and see her in her Gryffindor robes and tie. Harry felt immense pride swell up in his chest. "Why are you here?"

"Just a little work," he said. "It's lovely to see you! You look amazing in your Gryffindor colors! Thank you so much for writing your letters. Your mum and I love them to bits! Max, too. They both send their love."

"Are you here investigating Dolohov?" Abby said mysteriously. Harry blinked. How would his 11-year-old girl possibly know the reason why he was here?

"You know, Diabolos," explained Abby, "the boy I wrote you about."

"Oh!" said Harry. "Of course!" He sighed in relief. "I can't tell you why I'm here, Snidget. But maybe we'll give ol' Diabolos a run for his money while we're here," he winked at her conspiratorially.

"Not if I can help it," Hermione said with a smirk. Minerva just shook her head.

"It's time for you to head off to class, Miss Potter," said the Headmistress. Abby pouted slightly.

"Okay," she said. She gave Harry one last hug. "Love you, Daddy! Thanks for coming!" She skipped off down the hall to class with the rest of her classmates.

"Thank you for allowing me to be here," Harry said to the two women in front of him.

"Of course," Minerva replied, "anything we can do to help your investigation."

"I apologize for having to come here under these circumstances, but it's good to be back here," Harry said. "Is Professor Malfoy here?"

"Shockingly enough, yes," said Minerva, "he requested one day off for his father's funeral and that was it. Do you wish to speak with him?"

"Yes, please," said Harry. "Do you have some place secure where we could speak?"

"You may use this office," she said, gesturing to her own. "It has every counter-listening jinx and dark magic repellent known to man cast upon it."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"We're actually really glad you came here, Harry. We really can't to help," Hermione said.

"We'll see if you can," he replied. Hermione volunteered to take over the potions class so Harry could talk to Draco. Harry couldn't remember the last time he spoke to the man, so he didn't quite know what to expect.

"Hello, Draco," Harry greeted, upon the blonde man's entrance to the office. "I appreciate your leaving class to talk with me." Draco sat in front of him at the large desk in the room, steepled his fingers, and nodded. "I assume you know why I'm here?" said Harry.

"You are here, no doubt, to investigate my father's murder. My _estranged_ father's murder," Draco emphasized. Harry noted it.

"How long have you been estranged?" asked Harry.

"Twenty years. Ever since I fought for the light against his master," Draco answered hollowly. "It was after the vampire battle at Hogwarts that he decided to disown me," he added meaningfully.

"Hermione and Ron told me what you did by joining Dumbledore's Army back then." Harry paused. "Thank you." Draco nodded once. Then Harry said, "I also need to thank you for saving my daughter."

"What?" Draco said. He was clearly mystified.

"Abigail wrote me about how you stopped Diabolos Dolohov from attacking her. She wanted me to tell you she was very grateful."

Draco got a faint smile on his face as he answered, "Oh yes. I doubt 11-year-olds could do very much damage to each other, but when a student raises his or her wand against another student, it's a serious offense, as you know." Then he dropped the smile. "You really need to teach your daughter how to defend herself. Daibolos had his wand pointed straight at her face, and she still wouldn't raise her wand."

Harry absorbed this information slowly. Was it true that Abby was going to just allow that boy to attack her? It hardly seemed real—she was in Gryffindor, after all. Was his little Abigail fearful of getting hurt? Was that why she hadn't raised her wand? Or was it a conscious choice, like she said? It was odd to think that his own child might not be brave. But then he quickly reminded himself why he had segued to the Dolohov boy to begin with.

"I never knew Antonin Dolohov had a son," Harry said, changing the subject.

Draco sat back in his chair and looked at Harry for some time before replying. "Neither did I, until the magic quill here wrote a letter to send to Diabolos's parents. But then again, lots of Death Eaters have sons." Now it was Harry's turn to sit back in his chair. So Draco had caught the hidden meaning of Harry's last statement. Good man. Although Draco didn't know it, Harry himself could be considered the son—or at least the son-in-law—of a former Death Eater.

"Yes, that's true," Harry agreed. "But not all of their sons are in eminent danger."

Draco looked at him sharply. "What are you saying?"

"We have reason to believe that the person who killed your father and my mother-in-law is the same individual. In fact, there has been another murder, at Azkaban this time. And the only connection the murders have is that all the victims are former Death Eaters, Draco. Only the ones who have openly defected are being targeted."

Draco's eyes grew huge. "And you believe I'm next in line to be killed," he breathed. Then he looked puzzled. "Could that have been what he meant..."

"What who meant?" asked Harry.

"The last time I saw Dolohov, he was telling my father he had found the "missing" Death Eater—that she had never been one of us, that she had lied—and that her loyalties were always with the light. I thought that he was referring to my mother. But could he have meant your mother-in-law?"

Now Harry was getting somewhere. "I have always believed that Dolohov is still alive. He is a most difficult man to contain. He last escaped a few years ago. It's my belief that he is now systematically killing all of the Death Eater defectors."

This time, Draco leaned forward on the desk, putting his head in his hand. "And to think, I just recently sent him a letter about his son."

"So you know where he is then," said Harry.

"Not necessarily. I addressed the ltter, told the owl to find him and the owl returned without the letter." He added, "That still doesn't explain your mother-in-law, though."

"Perhaps not," Harry answered, weighing his next words very carefully. He had to be sure not to give away too much privileged information. "She had certain, shall we say, talents, that helper her blend in with the crowd."

Draco narrowed his eyes for a moment before answering with one word.

"Metamorphmagus," he said. Harry nodded in confirmation.

"That means she could have been virtually anybody, and we would have had no way of knowing," Draco said in dismay. He thought some more. "It also means she had to have been one hell of an Occlumens to deceive the Dark Lord. Only those whom he thought he could trust or manipulate ever got the Dark Mark."

"Draco," said Harry, thinking fast, "was your mother ever present at Death Eater meetings?"

"Yes, but why?"

Harry sighed. "I need to look at some of her memories. It's time I paid Narcissa Malfoy a little visit. Albus Dumbledore, too." Harry was unendingly grateful for Draco's cooperation. However, now he just might have to ask too much of the man. "Draco," Harry said, "I need you to follow me."

* * *

Abigail and Lionel met in front of the kitchens that night, just as they had planned. It felt odd to Abby not having Rose and even Wesley around, but she understood that sometimes, you just had to speak with someone who could understand what you were going through.

"Thanks for coming," Lionel said. Was that a little bit of excitement Abby heard in his voice?"

"What's up, Lionel?" asked Abby.

"Well, you remember that conversation we had the first day about time turners?"

"Of course I remember," said Abigail, "Wesley, as usual, was a total jerk about it."

Lionel rolled his eyes and nodded. But then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something large, ornate, and beautiful.

Abby gasped at the sight. It was an antique time turner, and it was absolutely breathtaking. Little red jewels were encrusted in between the rings. But it didn't have just three rings like time turners normally did. It have six of them.

"Lionel!" Abby breathed, "Where did you get that?"

His eyes shown in the torchlight of the corridor. "It belonged to my great-grandmother. We were cleaning out her place and I saw my mum with it. I...I stole it, thinking I could save my great-gran, but you can't slow down the aging process," he said sadly. "No matter how far back in time you go, people still die of natural causes."

Abby looked at him sadly. But then she said, "What do you think the other two rings are for?"

"That's easy," Lionel said. "The smallest ring is for minutes, the next for hours, the next for days, the next for weeks, the next for months, and the largest one...is for _years,_" he said, giving Abigail a long look. "That means—"

"Shoosh!" Abby said. "Don't say it!" Of course she knew what it meant. It meant she could go back in time and save her nana...but dare she do it? _No, _she thought, _it just wouldn't be right._

"It looks really old," Abby said.

"That's another thing," said Lionel, with a touch of sadness, "Mum says it's only got a few good uses left in it. So we'd better make it count." Abby couldn't have agreed more. But she still couldn't entirely give up the hope of saving her grandmother from a horrible death.


	10. The Killing Curse

**CHAPTER TEN:**

**THE KILLING CURSE**

It took quite some doing, but Harry finally got the requisite memories that he needed from Narcissa Malfoy. He never truly thought she would give them go him, at least not without help. And that's why Harry had brought Draco along. In fact, Harry had the memories within twenty minutes of arriving at Malfoy Manor. But he had to get going. Dolohov was no doubt tipped off to the fact that Harry had made a visit to Hogwarts and that Draco was with him. Harry had to get him to a safe house quickly. Albus Dumbledore's place was where he was going to go. After all, he needed the Pensieve, and Dumbledore was expecting him to bring Draco there anyway. But time was wasting.

"Harry, I know we need to go, but I need to gather some things from home. Is that all right?"

Harry looked at him. If he were honest, they were a bit ahead of schedule. But he didn't wish to flirt with danger by keeping Draco out in the open, so he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but we just can't take the risk."

"What if I told you I'm going anyway?" replied Draco, with just a hint of his old self. "I don't need your protection, you know. I can defend myself."

"I can appreciate that, but the other Aurors know I've gone to get you. You are officially under our protection now, so if anything happens to you, it's on my head."

Then Draco looked at Harry and said something Harry had never heard him say.

"Please."

Harry looked off to the side, knowing he would regret this. "You have five minutes, Draco," he warned, and they were off to the blonde man's condo.

* * *

Harry perused the perimeter, making certain nobody was there. He didn't put it passed Antonin Dolohov to attack them in broad daylight, either. He had an ominous feeling in his chest.

"I'll be quick," Draco said, as he ran up the stairs.

Harry stood at the foot of the steps after he had checked the upstairs, and he was pacing around like a caged animal. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. As soon as two minutes had passed, Harry thought he heard noises. He walked up the steps. "Draco, we need to go. Now." There was no answer.

"Draco?" Harry said again.

Suddenly, a stream of red light shot over his head. He ducked at the last possible second. The spell energy slammed into the wall. _Damn!_ Dolohov was already there. Where had he been hiding?

Harry threw a spell around the corner blindly, hoping it would hit the intended target. He got his answer in the form of another spell being thrown at him.

"DRACO!" Harry called, "ARE YOU OKAY?" There was still no answer. Harry tried to inch his way forward to where he knew Draco's room to be.

"DRACO!" Harry called again. He belly-crawled across the floor, under the salvo that Dolohov was throwing at him.

Then he crawled all around the room, searching for Draco. The place looked like a war zone, pock-marks in the walls and burn holes in the furniture. Pictures had shattered and fallen on the floor.

"Potter!" said a voice. "In here!" It was coming from the wardrobe.

"Draco?" Harry questioned as he moved back across the floor.

"This is the old Vanishing Cabinet from the school back when we were there," Draco said. "It'll take us to Bourgin and Burkes. Come on!" He turned back around and dashed into the thing.

Harry turned around a last time to check behind him. It was the last mistake he would ever make.

"Eat death, Potter," Dolohov said coldly, before shouting, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" at the top of his voice.


	11. Broken Hearts

**CHAPTER ELEVEN:**

**BROKEN HEARTS**

Draco stood frozen in horror as Harry was hit by the evil curse. His body flew into the Vanishing Cabinet and slammed hard into the back wall.

"You're next," Dolohov snarled.

Draco shook himself, slammed the Cabinet's double-doors, and rammed home the bolt on the lock from the inside. He knew that not even a Bombardum spell could break through it.

He turned around just in time to hear Harry's body slump against the floor of the wardrobe. Draco quickly lighted his wand and slid down next to him.

"Potter?" he said, with fear in his voice. Harry's lifeless eyes stared straight ahead, his glasses askew. Draco was now cradling him in his arms. "Potter, don't you dare die on me!" he shouted desperately. Could his former nemesis have really just died defending him? "POTTER!" Draco yelled. Harry's only response was that his eyes rolled back in his head and finally closed.

"NO!" shouted Draco. All of his childhood ire came rushing to the forefront. "Dammit, Potter, you've beaten this curse before, so do it again!" He slapped Harry across the face as hard as he possibly could. "FIGHT IT!"

But Harry didn't fight at all. In fact, he did nothing, for no one. The shock hit Draco full force. He was suddenly the same scared boy of sixteen, only the enemy he confronted now wasn't the Dark Lord—it was death itself. And Harry Potter had just lost...and died in Draco's arms.

"Damn you, Potter," Draco said, his head shaking, as tears slid down his cheeks completely unbidden. "Damn you for making me cry for the first time in twenty years." He threw his head against Harry's shoulder and cried into his shirt for a time.

It was getting stuffy in the Cabinet, but Draco couldn't bring himself to leave Harry. He kicked the doors as hard as he could, continually shouting, "SOMEONE HELP US! HELP US NOW!"

He managed to reach up and unlock the doors with one hand. It took a couple of minutes of screaming, but somebody finally came to release them.

Draco and Harry tumbled out onto the floor in front of Mr. Burke in his shop. The shop owner took one look at them and took a few steps back.

"What on earth has happened here?" he demanded.

"Dolohov happened," Draco said darkly, hastily wiping away his tears. "Help me." They carefully lifted Harry's body up on the counter top at the front of the shop. "Potter got hit with a curse that was originally meant for me. Bloody Gryffindor," he said, not entirely able to hide the gratitude in his voice.

"What should we do?" asked Burke. It was obvious the man was mortified.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Draco said, shaking his head, "but we need to contact the Ministry straightaway."

* * *

Ron had been on shift at the Ministry when the news had come that his best friend, Harry Potter, had been killed. He was one of the first to know.

It had been his first inclination to foist the blame of Harry getting killed onto Draco, but after Ron caught a glimpse of Draco's face, and how extremely upset the man had been, he quickly changed his mind. Harry had literally died in Draco's arms...

If only Ron had been there, he might have been able to stop it from happening...the guilt was now eating Ron alive. Now he had the unfortunate duty of informing Harry's wife that he was dead...

* * *

Shantiel was at work when they told her. They had pulled her out of class. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood there, flanked by Remus Lupin and Ron Weasley. All three men were solemn with red-rimmed eyes. Immediately, Shantiel knew they had come to tell her about Harry. _Dear Merlin, _she thought, _please don't let it be _that_..._ But in her heart, she already knew the answer. It didn't make the pain any less unbearable, though...

"Mrs. Potter," Kingsley began hoarsely, "we regret to inform you that your husband, Harry James Potter, has been killed on assignment whilst in the line of duty with the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic." The man took a deep breath before continuing, "He was not only an exceptional Auror, dedicated to his job of defending the public against the Dark Arts, but he was an exemplary wizard, friend, husband, and father." Then he stepped forward, and presented Shantiel with Harry's wand, glasses, and Auror badge. "Please accept our sincerest condolences on your loss." Kingsley's voice cracked on the last word.

At that, Shantiel's face crumpled and she dissolved into tears. Ron and Remus ran to comfort her. _There has to be some mistake_, thought Shantiel irrationally, _Harry can't really be gone, right? _He'd been dead before, after all...

"I have to see him!" Shantiel cried suddenly. If she could see him, everything would be right again...

"Right away, Shan," Remus assured. Ron noddled. "We'll go with you."

* * *

Hermione had been in her classroom as well. She took one look at Minerva McGonagall's face outside in the corridor and knew something terrible had happened.

"Minerva, what is it?" she asked upon walking out the door.

"It's Harry Potter," said Minerva, tears sliding down her cheeks. "He was killed just hours ago."

"But...but we just saw him this morning!" Hermione protested. "How can that be?"

"Apparently, after he left with Draco, they bumped into Antonin Dolohov. Harry was killed defending Draco. Draco barely escaped alive," Minerva said as she wiped her tears. "He's also very sorry he can't be here, but Dolohov is still at-large and Draco is still in danger. He's under Auror protection right now."

Hermione held a hand to her forehead, absorbing all of the information. She leaned against the wall in the corridor for support.

"I...I just can't bring myself to believe it," she said softly, "not when he's managed to defeat Lord Voldemort half a dozen times..."

Minerva put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I know. And we have to tell Abigail..."

"Oh no..."

* * *

The two women had told Abigail to meet them in the Headmistress's office after dinner. It was as if they had known that Abigail wouldn't want to eat after she heard the news...

Shantiel had been waiting in the office for her daughter when she showed up. At first, Abby was excited to see her until she saw how solemn her mother was.

"Abigail, darling," Shantiel said, running a hand over her daughter's hair, "something horrible has happened." She took a deep breath, nearly choking on her next words, "Your father has...been...killed, in the line of duty."

"What? No, no, you must be mistaken," Abby said surely, "I just saw him this morning!"

Her heart breaking, Shantiel shook her head and said, "I'm afraid there's no mistake, sweetheart. A man who has hated Harry for years wound up taking his life in a wand fight."

_Not Daddy!_ Abigail thought. She had known how dangerous an Auror's job was—the statistics of dying were quite high—but her father had always, always managed to make it through. Her mind kept screaming, _NO!, _over and over and over, as if her brain said it enough times, it might make Harry wake up and magically reappear in front of her eyes again, strong, and fearless, and whole.

It just wasn't fair of him to die, not when her nana had been killed so recently...

"Mummy," Abigail asked, her eyes glistening with tears, "is it okay if I see Daddy?"

Shantiel's voice was unsteady as she replied, "Of course, love. He's at the Ministry right now."

* * *

It was with much uncertainty and trepidation that the Potter family showed up at the morgue in the Ministry building. It seemed as if everybody they saw offered them all of their heartfelt condolences and mentioned how much they respected the Potters. Abigail knew that people meant well, it's just that the words held little weight. She wanted her father back. Little Max couldn't stop crying, he missed his daddy so badly. Abby's mother, Shantiel, was trying her very best to be brave for her children, but the little girl could tell her mother was cracking under the stress.

There was a woman in a green wizard healer's robe that greeted them at the doors to the morgue. A body lay on a table in a large room behind her, and it was covered with a crisp white sheet. Abby's heart started beating faster. Was that really where her father was right now?

"Hello again, Mrs. Potter," the wizard healer said.

"Is it all right if I..." Shantiel's voice faded away, and she wordlessly gestured toward the children. The woman caught her meaning.

"Of course, Mrs. Potter." She stood up, led the family into the large room where the body lay, and pulled back the white sheet which covered the face. It was indeed Abigail's father.

His eyes were closed and his glasses were missing. He wore a green gown, and he didn't look like he was in pain at all. In fact...

"Mummy," Abigail whispered, "he just looks like he's asleep."

"Can I touch him, Mummy?" Max asked quietly. Abigail hastily looked at her mother. Was it really okay?

Shantiel led her children closer, saying, "It's all right, children. Don't be afraid. He's still your father. You can touch him."

Abby could tell that her mother was on the brink of tears again. And she soon felt that she might join Shantiel in crying this time, too. Abby reached out, touched her father on his arm, and finally clasped his large hand in her own small one. His skin was cold. She didn't know why, but Abigail felt inclined to speak, even though he couldn't hear her...

"We miss you, Daddy," she said softly.

"Yes, we miss you, Daddy," Max agreed. He was lovingly touching Harry's face.

"We want you to be with us again," said Abby, "but we know you can't." Max nodded. "Mummy loves you, and we love you too. Please don't forget us."

Abigail eventually let go of her father's hand. When she turned back around, her mother's face was buried in her hands and she had fallen to the floor on her knees.

"Mummy?" Abigail asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm trying to be, sweetheart," was the strangled reply. Max and Abigail both threw their arms around their mother, trying to help, but Abby realized there was no real comfort to be given.


	12. A Hero's Goodbye

**CHAPTER TWELVE:**

**A HERO'S GOODBYE**

It seemed as if the entire wizard world was now in mourning. "HARRY POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED, DIES AT 36" screamed the headline in the Daily Prophet. The paper was full of articles about his life, family, career. None of it meant much to Abigail, however. Every thought, every word, every action reminded her of her father and the deep hole his absence had left in her life. She missed him horribly, and nothing could fill that hole.

The day dawned, dark and rainy. It seemed to Abigail as if the world itself were mourning the loss of her father. The Potters were getting ready for the big memorial ceremony that was to be held at the International Quidditch Stadium. It was the only venue large enough to hold the amount of mourners expected to attend. Albus Dumbledore had been asked to speak.

The Potters stood at the entrance, greeting a few of the thousands upon thousands of people who filed into the stadium. Hogwarts had even been shut down for the day, as so many of the staff and students were planning on attending the service. The Longbottoms and both Weasley families were all there. Rose, Lionel, and even Wesley had each given her large hugs, and Lionel stared at her for a time as he stood in line. She didn't know why he had looked at her that way.

The oddness of his behavior quickly passed, as more and more people spoke with the Potters, hugged them, and tried to bolster them somehow. Everybody had words of wisdom, comfort, and love to share, but all went passed Abigail in a blur. All she could feel was the pain of missing her father, and the pain of loss that her family was going through. Everyone kept asking if she was okay and if she wanted to talk, but Abby always told them no. She had started to go numb inside. It was the only way she could deal with all of it.

The time came for the ceremony to start. They were in the place of honor, set right on front of a podium that had been set in the center of the stadium. There were red and gold flowers everywhere. Everybody quieted down as Albus Dumbledore, revered elderly wizard, strode out onto the pitch and up to the podium.

"I am aware there are those among you who question the reason we are holding this memorial service on the Quidditch Pitch today," said a very serious Albus Dumbledore.

The headmaster stood in front of the hoops on the north side of the pitch, turned so he could address both sides of the grandstands. What looked to be the school choir and an orchestra were arrayed in place behind him on the grass of the pitch.

"The simple answer for that is Harry Potter's family," continued Dumbledore. "It is not frivolity that motivated them; rather it was with deepest respect they approached me and requested we not do what tradition dictates. They know more than anyone that Harry was a fighter, a survivor, a bright and vibrant soul who was not afraid to stand up for others. And as each of you are aware, he faced down the evil Lord Voldemort no less than six times in his life."

Dumbledore's voice grew more intense as he continued, "Harry Potter's friends and family also requested very specifically that we not wear black. 'Don't let this be viewed as a termination of mortality,' they said, 'but as a commemoration of life, and all that he stood for.'"

Abby was overcome; she looked around at the grandstands to realize that none of the mourners had worn the traditional black attire.

"Now, let us reflect a moment." Dumbledore's gaze briefly dropped somewhere below the grandstands, then he looked back up and went on. "What exactly did Harry Potter stand for? If you say courage, justice, and integrity, you would indeed be right. Yet that barely scratches the surface. Those of us fortunate enough to have known him would also say he stood for friendship and family–despite being an orphan, teaching and teamwork–as his fellow Aurors can attest, loyalty and leadership, character and compassion, trust and truth."

"Therefore, Harry Potter's friends and family rightfully pointed out that such a dynamic person as he would not wish for us to remember him as he died, but rather as he lived–and loved."

Just when Abby thought she would surely explode with the conflicting shock within her–both from conviction that her father should be dead, and consternation that he shouldn't–something audible and pure rent the air, curing the deafening silence which seemed to stretch forever...

He b'came wizard world's most famous child,  
Whose eyes were green, whose hair was wild.  
'Cause one night, th'Evil Man did all he could...

To take his life, and even had  
The power to slay the boy's mum and dad.  
Since Evil lost that fight...is all well and good?

It was a small Irish boy who had burst into song. He was Abby's age. Then the rest of the vocalists joined the boy in chorus:

And we never took the time to answer  
About the little boy, and what he'd do.  
Evil dispelled, most of us took for granted  
This tiny child had filled an older man's shoes.

Some strings in the orchestra picked up the melody as the singers finished the chorus, somewhat thawing some of the mind-numbing discord inside of Abigail. The school children were singing her father's story. Up in the sky, a break in the clouds grew ever larger, transforming the music makers and the pitch into an ocean of rainbow hue.

Ten years, a closet was his room;  
Neglect, abuse, and endless gloom  
'Til a letter from old Hogwarts set him free.  
Though those who saw forbade him leave  
He said, "So long, I've been deceived..."  
"Now I'll go to find that wizard in me."

Abigail didn't know if it was deliberate or imagined, but the sonorous effect round the pitch was more befitting a hall in the most majestic of all cathedrals. Each movement in the song was more beautiful than the next, every following verse sung by a different quartet, accompanied by more instruments in exquisite harmonies...

So they never took the time to tell him  
Who he really was; what he could do.  
By fear and hatred, tried to fell him  
But deep within, the boy already knew.

Turning her face up to the grandstands, Abigail saw that nearly everybody had stood up out of their seats, due the draw of warm sunlight and inspiring music. They too were enchanted and comforted by the layers of sound, finding themselves caught up in it...they could neither speak nor sit still. In another theme, a seventh year's voice rang out over all the others, as if from Harry's own perspective:

Take my hand, aside my journey  
Ere beset by anger, worry–  
Fight to keep these changes all in stride.  
I wonder who would help me break the spell;  
Who'll lift me from my private hell.  
Is this spark dark or light I feel inside?

Halfway through, the melody went through several key changes. The mood of the song shifted from personal lamentation to glorious, aspiring hope. Each chord flowed into Abby's mind, through her very soul, spoke soothing vibes to every aching part of her. Transfixed, she stood up out of her seat and made her way down to the center of the pitch.

Forced to mature before his time  
Each trial he faced more like a crime  
He fought what fight he did for me and you.  
Though from us now, our boy has gone,  
His memory goes on, and strong;  
He walked the mile within a grown man's shoes.

Even though for just a moment, Abby's loneliness and pain were gone now, replaced by resonating joy and healing from the musicians' intricately woven song. She turned back the way she had come, only to see the entire audience had left the grandstands and filled the green of the pitch behind him. Nobody remained in drab shadows; the light encompassed everything and colourized all it touched. Assembly and musician alike stood together for the final climactic crescendo.

Now we endeavor to convey it  
The legacy of all the boy did do.  
If we could ask, he'd meekly say this:  
Inside, I'm just the same as all of you.

The orchestra and choir rested for the last two lyrical phrases. The seventh year sang:

Look up, reach out, remember if you can.

And the Irish first year drew it to a close, with no less power than when he began:

Please don't forget our boy inside the man.

At Dumbledore's cue, all the people threw their arms above their heads. Sheer crystalline clamor cleft the skies, and Abby looked heavenward to see thousands of tiny golden Snitches hovering aloft the green. Each miniature of its predecessor sprouted wings and took off for the gap in the clouds toward the light.

For one glorious moment, Abigail actually felt okay again. But as the Snitches disappeared, the sky clouded over again, the song ended...and Abby realized what she had been left with. She was left feeling empty, once again, with nothing but numbness inside.

Wesley, Rose, and Lionel came up behind her. Lionel reached over and held her hand. Abigail realized he had placed something in it.

"You _have_ to use this. _Now," _Lionel said with complete seriousness. "It's the only way you can bring him back."


	13. A Timely Accident

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN:**

**A TIMELY ACCIDENT**

Abigail looked down at the large time turner in her hand. How could she have forgotten its existence? She couldn't possibly use it now, though—not in front of thousands of people milling around. Besides, just because a person _could_ do a thing didn't necessarily mean they _should._

"I can't..." she said faintly to Lionel, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And why not?" he demanded.

"Because I just can't, okay?" Abby yelled.

Rose and Wesley stared at her outburst, as they were unaware of the conversation going on between Lionel and Abigail. Then Rose got a kind look on her face.

"We understand you're just really sad," she said. Wesley just stood there looking sorry for Abby.

Suddenly, Abigail realized she was just sick of everything. She was sick of everybody being sad, she was sick of crying, sick of people trying to act like everything would be okay. It would never be okay again, not ever, not without her father. Abby ran for the grandstands.

Her father was the optimist, the strong one, the one who always pushed on no matter what, no matter how difficult everything got. Now he was gone forever. And it was all the killer's fault. The killer had ruined everything. Abby wanted to hurt him as much as he'd hurt her family. She had asked several times who her father's murderer was, but nobody would tell her. They said it was for her own good that she didn't know, but Abigail didn't believe them. She knew there was another reason; she just had to find out what it was.

But she had to let herself have a good long cry in private first. She was sick of people looking at her.

* * *

She didn't keep track of dates, but Shantiel finally said that it was time for Abby go to back to school again. Her whole time away from Hogwarts had passed in kind of a blur, and Abby didn't know whether or not she wanted to see her friends again yet. She just knew she had to get back to the school for some reason.

It felt as if everybody were staring at Abigail after she returned. There were whispers behind hands and conversations in hallways which stopped as soon as she drew near. Rose, Lionel, and Wesley were patient and long-suffering with her. Lionel had given up trying to persuade her to use the time turner. Abigail would just get angry with him whenever he mentioned it.

Finally, Abby just couldn't take anymore and she shared her dilemma with Rose. The biggest reason why Abigail couldn't bring herself to use the time turner was that she was terrified. She couldn't go by herself. There was no way she could face a killer alone. All of these things poured out of her one night while Abby and Rose were in the library together.

"So you see, I haven't any idea what to do," Abigail explained.

For several moments, Rose just stared at her. Then she asked, "Do you really want to go through with it? Changing the future?"

Abigail had thought long and hard about the consequences of changing the time line. And after watching all the horrible suffering and pain her family had gone through recently, she realized that nothing could stand in her way of trying to make it right again.

"Yes," Abby responded with determination in her voice, "I do."

"All right then," said Rose. "You don't have to stop the killer. You just have to stop your dad from going to where the killer's going to be at. Since you know your dad bumped into the killer at Professor Malfoy's house, you just have to stop him from going there."

Abigail looked at her friend in happy amazement. "Rose, you're a genius! How come I didn't think of that?"

Rose blushed a bit, saying, "It's the Ravenclaw, I guess," as she shrugged with a sheepish smile on her face.

"Okay, so when should we do this?" asked Abby.

"We?" said Rose. "Oh no, it's you who's going back."

Abigail looked hurt. "I thought you would come with me?"

"There's less risk the fewer people go back. No, I think you should go alone, probably back to the morning before your dad was killed. Convince him not go to go Professor Malfoy's house."

"But what if he doesn't listen?"

"Then you can try something else," Rose said. "Just make sure you come back."

"This thing is really old, though," Abigail said, looking at the time turner. "Lionel's mum said there's not many uses left in it."

"Then you'd better make them count, huh?" said Rose, matter-of-factly.

Abigail sighed with resignation. "If you won't go, then I guess I will go alone. But will you wait for me? We'll head out onto the school grounds by the Black Lake tonight, so nobody's around to see."

"Good idea," Rose said. "And yes, I'll wait for you. I'll make sure Lionel does, too."

That night, Abigail slipped out of her dorm room and was about the throw her Invisibility Cloak about her shoulders when suddenly, somebody stopped her.

"What're you doing?" Wesley said with concern. Abigail whirled around, shocked that someone had been watching her.

"Oh, nothing," she replied hastily. It sounded false even to her own ears. She sounded as guilty as a convict.

"Are you going out to meet Lionel and Rose?" he asked. "Why wouldn't you take me?"

"I just didn't want you to get in trouble, just in case we got caught," Abigail quickly made up an excuse. In reality, she hadn't wanted him along just in case he disapproved of her using a time turner. At least her other two friends seemed to understand. She didn't dare use her Invisibility Cloak with him around. The two children slipped out the portrait hole, through the hallways, and out the door to the Black Lake. Wesley wouldn't shut up the whole time, insisting that rule-breakers always got in trouble, and how they had best turn back now, and blah blah blah.

Abigail finally told him to shut up. She hadn't known what to do, and she wished she knew more spells, but she didn't yet know how to cast a full body-bind curse yet. That's certainly what she would have done to Wesley, had she the necessary prowess.

Lionel and Rose took forever. Wesley and Abigail had all but given up on them and had started to make their way back to the school, when suddenly their two friends showed up in front of them.

"Sorry," Lionel explained, "but McGonagall was in front of the headmistress's office, and we didn't want to get caught."

"We nearly did, though! About five times," Rose said breathlessly. She looked right at Abigail. "Ready, Abby?"

"Yeah," said Lionel, "are you ready?"

"I don't get it," said Wesley, "ready for what?"

Lionel, Rose, and Abby all looked at each other as Abigail pulled out the time turner from her pocket.

"Ready for this, Wesley," said Abby, with a glint of excitement in her voice. It was the best she had felt in ages. She was finally going to set things right! Abby held the thing high, turning the hourglass upon its axis.

"No, don't!" Wesley cried, as he made a grab for the necklace, "you don't know what you're-" Suddenly, pictures and blurs of color and sound flashed in front of Abigail's vision and assaulted her ears. Time seemed to be moving so quickly, she didn't know whether she was going backward or forward.

At last, everything slowed to a stop, the four friends having been caught up in the effects of the time turner's influence.

"Wesley, you stupid idiot! Now we have no idea _when_ we are!" Rose shouted. "It would have worked fine if not for your interference...!"


	14. Past Perfect

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN:**

**PAST PERFECT**

The four friends looked at their surroundings. It was dark, so it was difficult to tell how everything looked. It was more of a feeling than anything, sensing that there were subtle changes everywhere.

"Now we have to go back into the school to figure out where we are in time," Lionel said. "There's no other way..."

"Are you sure?" Wesley said with fear.

"Yeah, unless we have an appropriately-dated newspaper just laying around here out in the woods, that's what we'll have to do," Rose said sarcastically. "And we were trying to _avoid_ being seen." She cuffed Wesley across the back of the head in frustration. "Brain-dead oaf!"

"Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head. Abigail had felt like doing the same thing. Wesley very well could have ruined everything, and they didn't even yet know if they could make it back to their own time...

The ran for the school. A person who looked like a younger Professor Flitwick stopped them out on the Hogwarts grounds.

"Halt!" he said "What are you doing out of the dungeons? Vampires are about to attack the school! Go back inside, NOW!"

"Yes, sir!" They all said in spite of themselves. It was automatic. They hadn't wanted to get in trouble, so they continued to head back for the school's entrance.

"We can't go to the dungeons!" Wesley protested.

"Of course we can't!" Rose matched his volume. "But we had to give the appearance we were going to so we wouldn't get into trouble then, didn't we?"

"At least we know _when_ we are now," Lionel said ominously. "The vampire war."

"That was twenty years ago, long before our time," Abby said. The four were now at the school's entrance, where a couple of very familiar faces stopped them.

"First years!" yelled Hermione-from-the-past.

"What're you doing out of the dungeons?" said past-Ron.

It was so disorientating seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as their younger selves that Rose, Abby, Lionel, and Wesley all froze and stared.

"Well, don't just stand there," Hermione said. "MOVE IT!" She and Ron had pointed their wands at Abby and her friends in a threatening manner. They didn't need any more prodding. Despite their better judgment, they headed downstairs to the dungeons because it looked like they were about to be escorted there it they didn't go of their own accord. As soon as they were out of earshot, Rose started bubbling over.

"Those were my parents!" she squeaked.

"I know!" Abby said.

"That was so weird!" said Wesley.

"I think it was cool!" said Lionel. "It's too bad you couldn't you tell them who you are!"

The other three turned around and stared at him.

"Are you mental?" Rose demanded. "You could very well be changing your own future if you did such a thing!" Lionel shrugged.

"Don't blame me," he said. "It was Wesley who brought us here."

"Good point," Rose said, as she hit Wesley again.

They turned back around, continuing their way to the dungeons. "I wonder where my parents are right now," Lionel said. "I would love to meet them!"

"He really _is_ mental," said Rose to herself as she shook her head.

"Shut up!" said Abigail. "I hear something!" The four friends quieted and slipped into Professor Malfoy's potions classroom. It looked different.

Abby peaked around the corner of the classroom and saw two people in the corridor. It was a teenage red-headed girl and another dangerous-looking man. The man had backed up the girl against the wall. Suddenly, she screamed. Without thinking about what she was doing, Abigail ran out of the classroom, pointing her wand at the dangerous man.  
"Don't you dare hurt her!" she said threateningly. The dangerous-looking man laughed at her, turning away from the red-haired girl. His eye-teeth glinted in the torchlight. Abby gasped. Was this man a vampire?

"What are you going to do, point me to death?" he said derisively. He was not aware of the red-haired girl leaving her spot against the wall and retrieving her wand from where it had been dropped on the floor.

"FREEZE!" yelled the girl to him, as she pointed her wand behind his head. He whirled around, but it was too late.

"BOMBARDUM!" shouted the teenage girl. The vampire was hit full-force with the girl's spell and it caused him to fly into the wall. His body impacted the stone so hard that it crushed some of the brick behind him. Then the vampire, now unconscious, fell forward onto the floor, face-first.

Abigail was soon flanked by her three friends. The teenage girl was breathing hard, wand still held out in front of her with both hands.

"That was amazing," Rose whispered.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly. "If not for you, I'd be dead. But you really should be getting back to the Slytherin Common room now."

"Who are you?" Lionel said, voicing the words the rest of the friends had wanted to say. She looked at them oddly, as if not accustomed to people not knowing who she was.

"I'm Ginny Weasley, 6th year Gryffindor."


	15. Honest Truth

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN:**

**HONEST TRUTH**

Ginny smiled at them but Rose and Wesley stared at her. It was a rather awkward moment. Then Ginny made sure the vampire was taken care of by binding him with ropes. Soon, she told the four of them to get back to the Slytherin Common again, turned around, and dashed back the way that Abigail and her friends had just come.

"Oh, dear Merlin..." Rose whispered.

"What have you done?" Wesley said in horror to Abigail. She looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean, what have I done? I saved that girl from getting killed by a vampire!" she protested. "Well, sort of. I distracted that vampire long enough for her to defend herself."

"That wasn't just _any_ girl," Wesley said.

"That was our Aunt Ginny!" said Rose.

"I didn't know you had an aunt," Lionel said.

"Not a red-haired one, anyway," said Abigail.

"That's because," Wesley explained, his teeth now clenched, "she was supposed to have died a long, long time ago."

"She was _supposed_ to have died in this very war. And you just saved her. Bleeding-heart Gryffindor!" Rose slapped Abigail across the back of the head.

"Ow!" Abby looked at her friend, a hurt expression on her face. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, facing down that vampire, and all you can do is hit me?"

"I'm sorry," Rose said quickly, "I just don't know what will happen to our family now that she will probably have survived the vampire war."

"I don't see how this is a bad thing," Lionel said reasonably.  
"Well, for all we know," said Wesley, "she could be the one who ends up marrying Abigail's father. Or worse, Professor Malfoy!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Only _you_ would think it's bad for a Slytherin to marry a Gryffindor."

"Yeah," Abigail said. "Speak for yourself. Professor Malfoy is my favorite teacher."

"Fine," Wesley sniffed petulantly, "don't come crying to me when you don't exist anymore."

Lionel just shrugged. "What is it with you three? Think of the positive things! Besides, if your Aunt Ginny married Harry Potter, Abigail wouldn't still be here right now," he said.

The four stared around at each other again. Lionel folded his arms and grinned. "Maybe I should have been the one Sorted into Ravenclaw." Rose shook her head in disgust.

"We need to get out of here," Wesley reminded everyone. "I think we've done far too much damage already."

"I _told_ you, it would have worked fine if not for you," Rose said darkly.

Abigail took the time turner out of her pocket. It looked a bit damaged from where Wesley had taken hold of it. Abigail shook her head. Hopefully it would get them where they needed to go...

"Okay, everybody gather round. Touch the chain. I'll adjust it," Abby put the spindles exactly where she wished to go, to about a week and a half before her father's funeral.

Again, sights, sounds, and lights swirled around them. Finally they stopped. Abby could tell by the way the light shone through the windows that it was early morning. It was a good thing they had all kept wearing their school uniforms, as they blended in perfectly with the other students and made their way to the main foyer in the school. Every time somebody said hi to Abigail, she cringed inwardly. It was weird trying to hide in plain sight and not be noticed. She had a feeling her friends felt the same.

Suddenly, it occurred to Abby that she had the perfect way for them to hide themselves. The Invisibility Cloak! It was huge! If they could just hide out under that, out in the large foyer where Abigail knew her father would show up, it would be perfect!

And so Abby whisked out the Cloak after all of the other students made their way to the first class of the day. Oddly enough, Abby's first class was Potions, but that day, Hermione had fetched her out of class so she could say hello to her father.

Professor McGonagall stood outside her office, as Hermione walked up with Abigail's other self. The three ladies talked with the other Abigail for a time about how her classes were going. Abby noticed how her other self was so happy, excited, and anxious for things to happen. It was like another lifetime ago, when her father had been alive.

"You're standing on my foot!" said Lionel.

"It's hot under here," Wesley complained.

"How much longer?" Rose said.

"Not much," Abigail answered. "He'll be here any moment."

As if on cue, Harry Potter walked in through the entrance to the school. Abigail's breath caught in her throat. Her heart filled with so much emotion that she nearly choked. She almost dropped the Cloak and ran toward him. Abby missed her father so terribly, it took all she had within her to remain still.

Abby watched as Harry hugged the other Abigail and talked to her and the two professors. Oddly, Abby's insides filled with jealousy toward her other self being able to hug her father with abandon. _Soon,_ she promised herself, _that will be me again._ Minutes seemed to last hours, as Abby at last watched her other self head toward class. The two professors and Harry began making their way toward the headmistress's office.

"Now's your chance!" Rose said. "Go!"

Abby slipped out from under the Cloak and ran for her father.

"Daddy!" Abby called out. Harry turned around in surprise.

"Did you forget something, sweetheart?" he asked.

"I...I just need to talk to you again," Abby said nervously. "In private?" The two women smiled and nodded.

"I'll be in my office, Potter," McGonagall said. Harry nodded. Then he knelt down in front of his little girl on the stone floor.

"Now what did you need to say to me, Snidget?" Abby smiled at him happily. There was a time she thought she would never hear him call her that ever again.

"Daddy, I know you're here to talk to Professor Malfoy." Harry looked taken aback, studying Abby for a bit before replying.

"I see," he said.

"You're supposed to go to his house later this morning," Abby continued, her father staring at her intently.

"And who told you this, Abigail?"

"Nobody did, Daddy," Abby said, "just promise you won't go."

"I need to know who told you where I was going, Abigail," he said. "I need to know who's talking to you, so I can take care of it." Her father rarely ever called her by her actual first name. He had started to look just a tad angry now. Abby hated it when her father got angry, but at this point, she didn't much care. If she could stop him from going to Professor Malfoy's house, she could keep him from getting killed.

"I can't...tell you why, or how I know." Abby swallowed. "Please, please," she pleaded, "just promise me you won't go."

Harry looked at his little girl in a way he never had before. Abby didn't know if she liked that look at all. Then he canted his head at her, as if he noticed something.

"What is this?" he said, as he pulled the time turner out from underneath her robes. Abby looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. Would he even know what it was?

"Abigail Shantiel Potter," Harry said, with anger in his voice, "what in Godric's name are you doing with a time turner?" Harry only ever used her full name when he was extremely angry with her, and Abby could count the times on one hand when he had. She noticed he called her by a different middle name, though.

"Well?" he demanded. Abby swallowed, the tears starting to fall out of desperation.

"I'm actually an Abigail from ten days into the future," she cried. "After you go to Professor Malfoy's house today, somebody kills you."

Harry's eyes grew huge and he held a hand to his mouth. "So...you've just changed the future by telling me this..."

"I don't care!" Abby's tears flowed freely now. "I know what it's like to have you dead, and when I saw the opportunity to change the past, I took it!"

Her friends had come out from under the Cloak and Harry stared hard at each of them as they walked across the foyer to where he and Abby stood.

"Rose, Lionel, and Wesley? You're all here, too?"

"Yes, well," Rose mumbled, "that was an accident..."

"Please don't be mad, Mr. Potter," Lionel said. "It's my fault she has the time turner. It belonged to my great-gran."

Abigail was still crying, "I did this all for you, you know, Daddy."

In spite of himself, Harry looked at his little girl with compassion. He leaned forward and gathered her in his big strong arms, saying, "I...I can only imagine how hard that must be, having me be dead." He swallowed, thinking hard. "I know exactly what it's like to want to change the past, Snidget," he said softly. "How's Mum?"

"Horrible," Abby said truthfully.

"And Max?"

"He won't stop crying."

Harry removed his glasses, and ran a hand over his eyes. "Very well," he promised, "I won't go to Professor Malfoy's this afternoon."

Abby threw her arms around her father's neck and cried with joy. "Thank you, Daddy!"

He embraced her in return, saying, "Hey, I've no desire to get killed, you know. Thank you for risking everything just to warn me. But you'd best be going now, Little Snidget."

"I know, Daddy," Abby whispered. "I just love you so much."

"I love you, too," he replied, stroking his little girl's hair tenderly.

The four friends stood in the center of the foyer with Harry Potter. He contemplated them for a bit, as if remembering something. Though he'd tried to remain stern, he failed miserably.

"All of you remind me of my younger self," he said as he shook his head and grinned at them. "Don't make too much trouble now. You've got to save some for the end of the year—after all, you're only a month into the term!"

"Goodbye, Mr. Potter," said Wesley.

"Thank you for understanding, Mr. Potter," Rose said gratefully.

"You have the coolest dad _ever!"_ Lionel told Abby with enthusiasm.

Harry stood by and waved as the four children adjusted the time turner in the middle of the foyer and disappeared from in front of his eyes.


	16. Imminent Seduction

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN:**

**IMMINENT SEDUCTION**

Harry walked into the Auror Department with Draco Malfoy after fetching him and Scorpius from Hogwarts. He was still in a kind of daze over what future-Abigail had revealed to him about his death. As a result, Harry had made up some lame excuse that he had been given an anonymous tip that Antonin Dolohov was going to be at the Malfoy residence. Draco's wife had left their home to meet them there.

"Hello, poppet," the blonde man said to Ginny. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, thanks to Harry," she answered, giving Draco a kiss. Scorpius made a face.

Harry stood behind his desk, watching the exchange. He was suddenly reminded of how much he would miss his own family had he been killed that afternoon. It was too bad that Harry had never managed to catch Adonna's and Lucius's murderer yet...

"What's the matter, Potter?" Draco inquired. Harry shook his head, taken out of his reverie.

"Oh, nothing," he replied, then thought better of it. "Well, not nothing. I suppose I'm just really grateful right now. If we had gone to your place this afternoon, something might have happened. I just have that feeling..." Draco and Ginny looked at him. "I've sent Ron and a couple of others to check the place, just in case."

"Thank you," said Ginny. "We appreciate the protection from the Auror Department."

"You'll be staying with Molly and Arthur, then?" Harry asked. "I'll send some more of my people out there with you. Merlin willing, we'll catch our man tonight," he said.

Harry was itching to be out at the Malfoy residence to peruse the place for Dolohov, but he'd already promised Abigail he wouldn't go there. And so he sat in his office, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for something to happen.

* * *

Abby, Rose, Lionel, and Wesley all thankfully wound up back in their own time. Abigail wiped the last of her parting tears she had cried with her father. She had basically brought him back from the dead. The first thing she wanted to do was contact him to see if he answered. Her three friends skulked off back to their dorms, bidding her goodnight. It was very late, the same time it had been when they first left, so Abigail was a little afraid of waking Professor Hermione Weasley. But she was desperate to contact her father and therefore she took the risk.

Professor Weasley sleepily rubbed her eyes, but she was quite understanding about a first year needing to talk with her father, even in the middle of the night. She took Abigail into her own office and stoked the fire and contacted the Potter residence.

At first, Abby's mother was very worried. She thought that something must have been wrong, but as Abby spoke with her, she came to realize that Abigail just wanted to talk to Harry. However, Harry wasn't there. Shantiel explained that he was working late that night. Abby threw a bit of a tantrum and stamped her foot in frustration. She would have to wait until morning to speak with him after all. Abigail sincerely hoped that Harry hadn't gone off to the Malfoy residence, after all the trouble she had gone through to stop him.

* * *

But that's precisely where Harry had gone. He surveyed the aftermath of the battle that had gone on at Draco's and Ginny's place. Ron and put up one hell of a fight before Dolohov had subdued him. How was it that the evil man had managed to elude Harry so many times?

Harry walked over to Ron's body on the the floor. He felt so guilty, he didn't know what to do. If only Harry had been there, he might have managed to stop Dolohov from killing his best friend. But he had stayed away to save his own neck. That was not like Harry at all, but what could he have done? He had promised his own little girl he would stay away. Was it really just this morning he had spoken with Abigail? It felt like half a lifetime ago. And it was time for Harry to talk to her again, this time about confiscating a certain time turner. It appeared to have caused too much damage already.

* * *

Abigail had put up quite a protest, but Harry had finally got the time turner from her. It had been a mess, going to Hogwarts in the middle of the night to tell Hermione and Rose that Ron was dead. The blame was squarely upon Abby's shoulders now, but Harry wouldn't allow her to make anymore mistakes with the past.

He sat in his office, contemplating the time turner in his hands. Slowly the thing swung back and forth in front of him, and he let himself get hypnotized by its dangerous beauty. It was a highly seductive thing, even more dangerous than the Mirror of Erised had been.

If only Harry had managed to catch Dolohov, he could have stopped all this from happening. Staring hard at the device, Harry suddenly knew what he had to do—literally take time matters into his own hands.

He stood up, Apparated to the place where he needed to be, adjusted the spindles on the time turner to the appropriate markings, and spun himself back into the past. Harry lay in wait, watching for Dolohov to show up. He would take care of the man once and for all.


	17. Trapped in the Past

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:**

**TRAPPED IN THE PAST**

Harry had decided that he would go back to a time before this fiasco had all broken loose. So he appeared two weeks previous to his own time outside of Adonna's and Remus's house. It was the night which Adonna had originally been murdered. Harry waited for Dolohov to show up. He had had enough of the man being a destructive force in his life.

"_Inter Necare!_" shouted a cold voice from beside Harry. An explosive purple flame hit him and he was knocked to the pavement. Excruciating pain erupted from his side where the curse had hit him. Harry moaned in agony. How had Dolohov known he was there?

"You bastard," Dolohov spat venomously, now standing over Harry. He kicked Harry's wand away. "Always trying to interfere! When will you learn that you will _never_ be able to stop me?" Dolohov kicked him forcefully in the ribs, where the worst of the curse had hit him. Harry doubled over, holding his side, and attempted to crawl away. But he couldn't hardly breathe, much less move.

"Why," Dolohov kicked him in between each syllable, "won't," kick, "you," kick, "stay," kick, "dead?" Dolohov was clearly enjoying torturing him. The time turner fell out of Harry's pocket and onto the street. He tried to retrieve it discreetly but failed.

"And what is this?" questioned Dolohov as he picked up the necklace with the tip of his wand. "A time turner? So _that's _how you've been doing this," he breathed. The man threw the time turner onto the black top and smashed it under the heel of his boot. "Good luck getting back now," he snarled.

"No," Harry choked, as he reached out toward the thing. How could he ever get back to his own time? He was desperate for help, and he needed it now. Suddenly, something occurred to him. He mumbled something almost inaudibly.

"What was that, Potter?" And Dolohov kicked Harry in the face this time, smashing his glasses. Harry felt his nose break. "I couldn't quite hear you."

"You shall not harm Harry Potter," said a small yet firm voice from behind Dolohov.

"What the-" said Dolohov as he whirled around. Dobby threw a spell at the man and it was so powerful that he flew into the air, across the yard, and smashed into the house behind them. Dolohov had been knocked senseless, but Harry was in no position to stop him. Dobby raised his arms again and another spell hit Dolohov across the face. His head whipped back and then lolled forward onto his chest. Dobby ran toward Harry.

"Harry Potter?" he questioned fearfully.

"I'm a mess, Dobby," Harry said breathlessly, as he lay on his back. Little stars twinkled around the edge of his vision. Harry was losing consciousness.

"Dobby will get help for Harry Potter," Harry heard the house-elf say before the last of his senses winked out.

* * *

"I think he's coming around," Harry heard a familiar female voice say. His head throbbed horribly, but that was nothing compared to the ache in his side. Harry raised a hand to his forehead and groaned.

"Is he okay?" said a male voice. Harry's eyes snapped open. For one terrifying moment, he thought he must have been dead, for the eyes he had looked up into were his own.

"Ask him for yourself," said the female voice. And Harry finally recognized it. It belonged to his mother-in-law. At least Harry had been successful in stopping Dolohov from killing her last night. But he was apparently stuck in the wrong time...

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Harry's other self, the one who actually belonged in this timeline. "We've taken to calling you 'Harry James' to tell us apart. And from what Adonna said, it looks like you've taken quite a pounding."

"That depends," said Harry James, his voice gravelly from just having awoken. "Where am I? And how are Abigail and Shantiel and Max?" He was slowly becoming more lucid, remembering the details from the last two weeks.

Adonna and Harry stared at him, as if in confusion. They looked concerned for his welfare. Was he really remembering things wrong? The way his head felt now, he wouldn't have been surprised.

"You're at my house," said Adonna. "We figured you wouldn't want to be seen in this time. And Shantiel whom, did you say?"

"The only Shantiel I know is a girl I met years ago at school," said Harry's other self with concern. "She actually died. Voldemort killed her." Harry James tried to sit up, but as he did, a wave of vertigo crashed over him and he nearly passed out. _Was Shantiel really dead in this timeline? Please tell me I haven't really woken up yet... _Adonna looked somewhat sad.

"I was going to adopt her, too..." her voice faded away, and she looked at Harry James again. "Is that what brings you here?"

"Yes, I was wondering the same thing," the other Harry said. "I found this-" and he held up the broken time turner, "-next to you. "So we know how you got here. We'd just like to know why."

Harry James sat and looked at his mother-in-law and other self in deep contemplation. Just how much should he reveal to them? He decided he'd better stick with the truth, because that's what he'd want to know if he were them. He took a deep breath and began.

"In my time, there had been four murders, all being investigated by the Auror Department. We had all but pinned the murders to one Antonin Dolohov."

"So old Antonin's back at it, huh?" Harry's other self said darkly. "He escaped Azkaban again some time back."

"He has in my time too," said Harry James. "Dolohov started killing defectors who were once members of the Death Eaters." Adonna and Harry looked at him with wide eyes. Then Adonna's eyes flicked to the Harry who stood next to her, and back to Harry James on the bed.

"I already know, Adonna, that you have the Dark Mark," revealed Harry James. Harry took a few steps back and looked at Adonna with grave concern. She held the sleeve of her robe against her arm protectively.

"It's not what you think, Harry," she said, obviously trying to appease him. Then she looked at Harry James desperately. "Did you ever find out why I received the Mark?" Harry James shook his head.

"That is the one thing I never found out, but I was about to...before Dolohov killed me." Harry and Adonna stared at him.

"What did you just say?" Harry said, clearly in shock.

"I'm from a different timeline, too," Harry James explained. "My daughter took that time turner to stop me from being killed."

"I have a—a daughter?" said Harry in a daze.

"In my timeline you do," Harry James smiled at him. "And a son, too." Harry held a hand to his forehead.

"I'm not even married in my own timeline..." he said.

"That's because you're married to Shantiel Tonks." Adonna blinked.

"Did you just say 'Tonks'?" she asked.

"I did indeed. You adopted her, she and I got married, and had two children. Now, apparently, none of them exist anymore," Harry James said sadly. "But that still doesn't explain why you have a Dark Mark."

"Yes, I'd like to know that one, too," said Harry, as he folded his arms and stared her down.

Adonna sighed. "I suppose it was inevitable that you would find out one day..." She shook herself. "Years ago, I used to be an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. I was married to a man named Daniel Tonks, and we had a dear little son named Jareth. One day, the Death Eaters came to our house. They wanted access to a prophecy about you. I refused to give it to them. But then they held my son and my husband at wand-point and threatened to kill them if I didn't do as they said." Adonna swallowed and paused.

Both Harry and Harry James looked at Adonna in horror. They said at the same time, "How come you never told us?"

"It didn't really matter, did it?" the woman sad sadly. "Anyway," she continued, "I wouldn't tell them anything. It was the last thing I ever heard Daniel say to me. He told me not to betray my kind, that I needed to keep my knowledge to myself no matter what. That's what I decided to do, and as a result, Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov killed Daniel and Jareth in front of me to teach me a lesson."

Harry James reached out a hand in spite of himself and put a hand on Adonna's arm. "So...your family died...to protect me...?" Adonna looked at him in contemplation.

"I never thought of it that way, but in a manner of speaking, yes."

"I'm so sorry," said Harry. Adonna shook her head.

"It wasn't your fault," she said. "Anyway...I don't know why...but they let me go. Perhaps they felt I had learned enough. Having watched my two boys be killed in front of my eyes...something snapped, up here," she said, pointing to her head. "Right then, I vowed I would get revenge on Lord Voldemort and his followers. I disguised myself as a teenage boy, took the Dark Mark, and became a Death Eater."

"So that's when it happened," Harry James breathed.

"But obviously something happened. Why did you come back to the light?" said Harry.

"I couldn't stomach what they wanted me to do. They hurt so many people and wanted to do so many horrible things...that I realized I could never handle it. Within two weeks, my inner loss had healed enough that I came to know that I could never be a real Death Eater. I could never exact the revenge I had originally wanted, since I was incapable of inflicting that level of pain upon another person." Adonna hung her head in shame. "I was able to get away with it because nobody knew I was a Metamorphmagus..."

Harry embraced Adonna. "Again, I'm so sorry. I never knew..."

"There was good reason for that," Adonna said with tears in her eyes. "I never told anyone. It's not something I ever like to discuss." The three of them sat in silence for a time, letting Adonna gather her thoughts. Harry James was gathering his own thoughts...so, now he knew why Adonna had done what she'd done...

Harry looked at Harry James. "Now, we have to discuss how to get you back home. Know of anyone who can repair these things?" he said, holding up the damaged time turner.

"I was hoping you would," Harry James said.

"I do," Adonna said helpfully. "But you, sir, are not going anywhere," she said, giving Harry James a really stern look. "You're in no shape to go anywhere, much less travel through time. Rest, take it easy, hopefully the time turner can get repaired, and with a little luck, we'll send you home."

"I certainly hope so," Harry James said, "I feel awful, though."

"That's because it's time for your potions," Adonna said. "All twelve of them."

"_Twelve?"_ Harry James asked in horror. "What did Dolohov do to me?"

"He used his signature curse on you."

"I just might die taking twelve potions..."

"You _will_ if you don't take them," Adonna admonished. "What did you expect after getting in a fight with a Death Eater, a sprig of mint with gillywater?" Harry tried to smother a laugh, tried to save his counterpart a little dignity, but he failed.

"Shut it, you," Harry told his other self angrily.


	18. Happy Family

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:**

**HAPPY FAMILY**

Harry James convalesced for a week at Madam Adonna's home. It nearly drove him insane, but he had to admit that he had needed to sleep and rest an awful lot. One time, he caught the other Harry studying at him.

"What is it?" Harry James asked.

"I was just wondering..."

"Yes?"

"What's it like...having a family? Your own real flesh-and-blood?"

Harry James smiled. "I feel bad for you that you haven't ever experienced that. I can't lie—it's the most wonderful feeling in the world—at least until your daughter does something horrible."

"What did she do?" Harry asked curiously. "You mentioned she saved you from getting killed."

Harry James sighed. "Yes, she saved my life."

"How is that a bad thing? She must love you an awful lot, if she was willing to risk everything just to come back and tell you."

"It reflects badly on the whole family, though. Her action had unforeseen repercussions."

"Perhaps," said Harry, "but if I had the chance when I was younger, I would have done anything to stop Sirius from getting killed." Harry James contemplated Harry before replying.

"I suppose the act itself isn't so bad, it's what happened because I wasn't around to stop it."

"Seriously, though—what happened?"

"Abigail—my daughter—knew where I would be killed. She made me promise not to go there. However, Ron went in my place. As a result, he was killed instead of me." Harry held a hand to his mouth in contemplation.

"Are you certain it was because she prevented you from going?"

"Well, no. I suppose not."

"Then why blame her?"

"Because it never would have happened if I had gone..."

"Are you certain of that?" Harry James looked at his other self again.

"Whose side are you on?" he asked Harry.

"I just don't think you should be so eager to place such a heavy burden on your daughter's shoulders," Harry answered. "After all, her only crime is that she's a child who loves her father." Harry James looked at him sharply.

"What do you know? You're not a father..."

"You also mentioned that you came back here, to this time, to save Adonna."

"It was actually to stop Dolohov from killing so many people..."

"Don't split hairs with me, Harry James. I know very well why you used that time turner. You wanted to save your mother-in-law. You are therefore guilty of the same crime of which you have held your own daughter so highly responsible. _Don't be a hypocrite._" Harry James growled low in his throat.

Who was this fatherless man to tell him how to feel? Then he thought better of it. Harry was right.

"I suppose you're right," he replied.

"Of course I'm right. Now go back there and do right by your daughter. It appears that she needs you."

"I guess this is what it means when you give yourself a stern talking-to," Harry James mumbled. Harry got a twinkle in his eye.

"I could slap you across the face to make things really interesting," he said.

Harry James held up his hands, "No, no, I don't really think I need to knock some sense into myself, thanks."

* * *

At last, the time turner was ready. Adonna had given it to the jeweler at Specific Alley, the same shop where Harry had bought Shantiel's special locket from all those years ago. If anyone could repair it, it was the wizened old wizard that ran the shop.

Adonna took the time turner out of a large padded box. The thing scarcely looked better from the last time Harry had seen it.

"The wizard says it has only one more short trip left in it, and that it can only go forward instead of back, so it's a good thing you've only got a week to go into the future," said Adonna. "Of course, it doesn't guarantee anything, but hopefully, your world will be returned back to normal."

"It's been really good to see you alive, Mum," Harry James said softly. "It was very hard having to investigate your murder." Even though this Adonna wasn't anybody's mum, she appreciated his sentiment all the same.

"I can only imagine what it would've been like," she replied, just as softly.

"I couldn't have made it through Dolohov's curse without your help, either. Thank you."

"Anything for you, Harry James," said Adonna.

"And thank you for helping me see the error of my ways, Harry," Harry James told himself.

"Anytime," the man said with a smile. "Give that daughter of yours an extra hug or two from me."

"Will do." Harry James took a deep breath. "Goodbye," he said, as he adjusted the spindles on the time turner and spun them, at last returning to his own time.

* * *

Harry hadn't known it, but after he returned, he was nearly as impatient as his little girl had been to talk with everybody. However, it was in the middle of the night, so Harry had to wait. He bustled around his house, checking to see that everything was as he'd remembered it.

Toys scattered in the living room, toys on the floor, little boy's underpants in the hamper. At least Max seemed to exist in this timeline. He quickly checked the little boy's room. In spite of himself, Harry ran to the toddler bed and picked up Max to snuggle him. Harry just had to make sure he was real...

"Daddy, I'm tired," Max said sleepily.

"I know, Max, just keep sleeping." He put his little boy back in bed and rushed to the master bedroom. Harry flipped on the light.

"Shan, love, are you awake?"

"I am now," she said, rubbing her eyes. "What is it?"

Harry just stood and looked at his wife, grateful to be back in his own time. "Nothing," he said, "I just wanted to tell you that I love you." He went over to the bed and took her into his arms. Harry held her for a very long time.  
"What happened at work?" Shantiel asked worriedly. "You're not usually like this after you stay so late."

"I'm just—happy—that you married me, is all." Shantiel shook her head at her husband, not quite understanding, but she smiled anyway.

"You silly man," she said, ruffling his hair, "of course I married you. Who else would I marry?"

"I don't know," he said, "Ron?"

Shantiel got a look of supreme distaste on her face and said, "Ron? He's Hermione's for sure! I'd never want to break them up."

"They've been together a long time," Harry agreed.

"Nearly as long as us," said Shantiel. Good. Ron was safe. Harry couldn't wait to see him the next morning at work.

"I'm exhausted," Harry said with finality, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Shantiel smirked.

"Well, it is three in the morning," she said. Then she got a devilish look on her face. "Are you too tired for this?" she asked, removing her negligee.

Harry stared at her naked body for a time before moving in and saying, "Nope, I'm never too tired for that." He covered her lips with his own, pressed their bodies together, and he pushed her down to the bed. _At this rate, we just might as well have three children,_ Harry thought happily, before reaching over and shutting off the lamp.

* * *

Harry went over to St. Mungo's to check up on his mother-in-law. Everything appeared right with her, too, as she was no longer dead in his time line. He made up some lame excuse to go see his daughter Abigail at Hogwarts. Nobody really seemed to mind

"Snidget," he said, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I was just worried about the time line, and I was afraid that irreparable damage had been done to it."

"It's okay, Daddy," she said understandingly, giving him a hug. She appeared to have no memory of Adonna ever having been murdered, either.

Harry didn't go into work until 11 am the next morning. When he did, he had a stupid oafish grin on his face. He was far more clumsy than usual, and Harry attributed it to lack of sleep.

"What's the matter with you?" said Ron. He appeared to be amused with Harry's klutziness.

"Oh, nothing," Harry said, putting his arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

"Wait a minute, I know that look," Ron contemplated. "You and Shan still got it, eh?" the red-haired man asked his friend knowingly. Harry nodded, grinning even wider.

"Dolohov is _not_ happy about being captured," Ron said. "We've got him in solitary." Harry stared at Ron.

"You got him last night, then." Ron looked at Harry oddly.

"You were there!" Ron exclaimed, "You must have seen some action with that wife of yours last night, if you're forgetting we finally got our man."

Harry shrugged, completely unabashed. When Ron was right, he was right.

"Incidentally, while you were sleeping in this morning, the report came that Viktor Krum's been spotted."

"Seriously?" Harry asked, now leaning forward in his seat. "Where?"

"The Hoia-Baciu Forest in Romania."

* * *

Dear Readers,

Well, here's another story, completed! (That's 30 THOUSAND words generated and posted from scratch in less than 10 days!) Hopefully we should soon be onto our fifth story, which is as-yet-untitled. Thanks for sticking with us to the very end!

Rae Carson and DJ Vivian


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